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The  Sense.  Of  The.  Tnftnate.  /tmon^  The.  lforr\oLn^ic.is^s 


THE  SENSE 


AMONG 


THESIS 


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CMOSilR 

I 

THE  ORIGIH  OF  THE  SENSE  OF  THE  INFINITE 

1-10 

CHAPTER 

II 

ROHAl^TIC  RE7ERIE 

11  - E9 

CHAPTER 

III 

ROMANTIC  SYMBOLISM 

SO  - 41 

CHAPTER 

IV 

ROMANTIC  ENTHUSIASM 

4E  - 6E 

Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/senseofinfiniteaOOheth 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  ORIGIN  OP  THE  SENSE  OP  THE  IITPINITH 

It  is  difficult  to  trace  the  orogin  of  what  is  termed  "man’s  sense  of  the 

infinite,’’-  his  "desire  for  the  Unattainable, ’’-  for  man  has  always  had  some 

conception,  however  vague,  or  however  rational,  of  the  infinite,  A motto  t?lcon 

from  a Thirteenth  Century  n^stic,  Rusbrocelc  the  Admirable,  is  « cry  for  escape, 

for  the  ’’something  in  the  world  that  is  therein  no  satisfying  measure,  or  not 

(1) 

at  all,"  And  Longinus  says, -"For  to  speak  properly  the  Sublime  rather  ravishes 

than  persuades;  it  creates  in  us  a certain  transport  and  admiration,  mixed  with 

astonishment  and  surprise,  which  is  altogether  distinct  from  barely  pleasing 

(2) 

or  persuading,"  Our  concern  is  tliat  spirit  which  prompted  men  during  the  roman*'- 
tic  period  to  an  expansive  idea  of  personality,  ideal  and  expression,-  which 
motivated  them  to  limitless  self-reflection,  vague  ideas  of  possible  attain- 
ments, and  profuse  and  extravagant  efforts. 

"All  art,"  says  Arthur  Symons,  "liates  the  vague;  not  the  mysterious,  but 
the  vague;  two  opposites  very  commonly  confused,  as  the  secret  with  the  obsciure, 

the  infinite  with  the  indefinite.  And  the  artist  who  is  also  a mystic  hates 

(3) 

the  vague  with  a more  profound  hatred  than  any  other  artist.’’  To  such  an  author 
there  is  a distinction  between  vagueness  and  the  more  healthy  mysticism  of  ro- 
manticism, But  the  romanticist  himself  failed  always  to  distinguish  between 
the  two,  Arthur  Rimbaud,  for  example,  aclcnowledges  a vague  self-delusion,-"! 

(3)  Arthur  Symons,  "The  Symbolist  Movement,"  3?0 

(2)  Works  of"Lionysius  Longinus,"  Welsted,  171?  Edition,  S 

(1)  Arthxir  Symons,  "The  Symbolist  Movement,"  ?43 


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2 

accustomed  myself  to  simple  hallucination:  I saw  quite  franicly,  a mosque  in 

place  of  a factory,  a school  of  drums  kept  by  the  angels,  nost-cheises  on  the 

roads  of  heaven,  a drawing-room  at  the  bottom  of  a lake;  monsters,  mysteries; 

the  title  of  a vaudeville  raised  up  honors  before  me.  Then  I explained  my  msg- 

ical  sophisms  by  the  hallucination  of  words.’  Indeed  by  finding  something  sac- 

(1) 

red  in  the  disorder  of  my  mind," 

Byron,  in  "Don  Juan,"  in  justification  of  inconstancy  speaks  of  the  "ador- 
ation of  the  real,"  which  is  but  a heightening  of  the  'beau  ideal' ,- 
"*Tis  the  perception  of  the  beautiful, 

A fine  extension  of  the  faculties, 

Platonic,  universal,  wonderful 

Drawn  from  the  stars  and  filtered  through  the  skies 

(2) 

Without  which  life  would  bo  extremely  dull." 

To  Madame  de  Sta’el*  too,  whom  Heine  characterizes  as  the  "large-hearted 
woman,"  who  in  her  books  expresses  "the  thoughts  of  her  own  radie^it  soul,  dis-- 
playing  all  her  intellectual  fireworks  and  brilliant  follies,"-  the  sense  of  the 
infinite  is  "the  true  attribute  of  the  soul"  awakened  by  sincere  religious  feel- 
ing, To  her,  too,  it  is  indissolubly  linked  with  the  sense  of  the  beautiful, - 
"All  that  is  beautiful,  of  every  kind,  excites  in  us  the  hone  and  desire  of  an 
eternal  futurity,  and  of  a sublime  existence;  we  cannot  he'.r  the  wind  in  the 
forest,  nor  the  delicious  concords  of  human  voices;  we  cannot  feel  the  encliant- 

ment  of  eloquence  or  poetry;  in  a v/ord,  above  all,  we  cannot  innocently,  deeply 

(3) 

love,  without  being  penetrated  with  religion  and  immortality," 

As  to  Htgo,  so  to  her,  also,  the  romantic  desire  for  the  infinite  means 

"liberalism  in  art,"-  but  more  even  t'nan  that.  It  is  the  motive  force  for  the 

saving  spirit  of  the  universe,  enthusiasm,  which  she  happily  iirposes  against 

the  danger  of  living  life  as  little  as  possible,  Gan  there  be  a more  wretched 

(3)  Lladame  de  Sta®l,  Germany,  0.  V/.  i*Vright,  1861,  Yol,  11,  Ohapterl,  289 
(2)3Byron,  "Don  Juan,"  "Byron's  Gonplete  Poems,"  Cambridge  edition,  Ganto  II, 

OCXII,  801 

(1)  Arthur  Symons,  "The  Symbolist  Movement,"  291 


3 

economy  than  of  the  faculties  of  tne  soul?  They  were  given  to  he  improved  and 

eaqpanded,  to  he  carried  as  near  as  possible  to  perfection,  even  to  he  prodigally 

(1) 

lavish  for  a high  and  nohlo  end." 

The  spirit  was  one  of  expansion  into  untried  fields,-  an  emotional  outpour- 
ing of  idealism,  enthusiasm  and  extravaganza.  Bahhitt  says,  "The  hrealcing  down 
hy  the  emotional  romanticist  of  barriers  that  separate,  not  merely  different 

literary  genres  hut  the  different  arts  is  only  another  aspect  of  his  readiness 

(2) 

to  follow  the  lure  of  the  infinite.”  And  in  "The  New  Laokoon,"  in  referring 

to  the  suggestion  in  romantic  art,  he  speaks  of  the  "inbreeding'’  of  German  pro- 

(3) 

gram  music,  and  of  its  "tendency  to  melt  into  outer  nature.” 

But  there  is  a sense  of  the  infinite  which  is  limited  and  attainable  thro- 
ugh restraint.  The  classicist  speaks  of  a "classic  "ense  of  infinity,'  e "cen- 
ter of  perfection,"  an'irmer  or  human  infinite,”  or  an  infini  e in  the  "qu'-lity 
of  restriction  and  limitation  and  proportion,"  'There  may  oe  claimed  for  tne 
literature  of  all  ages,  he  would  say,  certain  attributes  when  "it  rises  from 
the  common  level  to  the  climates  of  inspiration,-  the  moments  when  in  it  we  are 
thrilled  hy  the  indefinable  spell  of  strangeness  wedded  to  beauty,  v;hon  we  are 
startled  hy  theunexpected  vision  of  mystery  beyond  the  circle  of  appearances 
that  wrap  us  in  the  dull  commonplace  of  daily  usage,  and  suddenly  ’the  irameas- 
urahle  heavens  break  open  to  their  highest.'  And  he  cites  such  an  instance  in 
Homer’s  beautiful  story  of  Ulysses’  encounter  with  Circe. 

AS  to  the  emotional  and  philosophical  origin  of  this  romantic  sense  for 
the  "limitless,"  which  led  to  such  an  "exaggerated  sense  of  the  truth  of  things'} 
Paul  Elmer  More  says, -"If  I had  to  designjite  briefly  this  underlying  princi]^le 

(4)  Paul  Elmer  More,  "The  Drift  of  Romanticism,"  Shelborne  Essays,  Eighth  Series 
Introduction,  9 

(3(  Babbitt,  "The  Hew  Laokoon, " Chapter  VI,  157 

(2)  Babbitt,  "Rousseau  and  Romanticism,"  Chapter  III,  94 

(1)  Madame  de  Stael, 'Gearaany,  0.  W.  v.'ritht,  1861,  Vol.II,  Chapter  XII,  368 


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4 

which  gives  to  historic  romance  a character  radically  different  from  the  nys- 

tery  and  wonder  of  classic  art,  I should  define  it  as  that  conceit  of  th^rao- 

tions  which  goes  with  the  illusion  of  beholding  the  infinite  within  the  stream 

(1) 

of  nature  herself,  instead  of  apart  from  the  stream,” 

In  sources,  such  a tendency,  he  thinlcs,  goes  back  to  the  imion  of  Oriental 
and  Occidental  civilization;  Eastern  religion  and  V?estern  nhilosophy.  In  the 
East  religion  has  always  been  a vast,  vague  association  ivith  the  divine,  r. 
sense  of  the  infinite  independent  of  the  finite.  To  Aristotle  as  he  discusses 
the  sense  of  the  infinite  in  the  ’’hicomachean  Ethics”  it  is  the  pure  sense  of 
evil,-  ’’According  to  Aristotle,”  More  continues,  ’’the  active  nature  of  man  is 
made  up  of  desires,  or  iE5)ulses,  which  in  themselves  are  incapable  of  self-res- 
traint and  are  therefore  limitless,  - - - Furthermore,  this  limitlessness  is  of 
the  very  nature  of  evil,  v/here  as  good  in  itself  may  be  defined  as  limit,  - - 
and  the  aim  of  conduct  is  to  acquire  that  golden  mean  which  is  nothing  other 

than  a certain  bound  set  to  the  inherent  limitlessness  of  our  impulsive  or  de- 

(2) 

siring  nature,” 

With  this  difference  of  Oriental  and  Occidental  sentiment  towards  the  ia?? 
finite  there  also  went  a corresponding  difference  in  regard  to  the  idea  of  per- 
sonality, To  the  Western  mind  the  sense  of  the  Ego  was  sharply  defined.  The 
Oriental,  on  the  other  hand,  never  attained  to  a clear  conception  of  this  entity 
When  the  historical  situation  of  alliance  between  the  West  and  the  East  under 
the  Homan  Eo^ire  came  about,  two  situations  of  union  K-ere  -possible,-  the  Oreek, 
restricted  sense  of  the  infinite,  and  the  vague  Eastern  ider*  of  the  Ego;  or  the 
Eastern  infinite,  limitless  and  vague,  and  the  definite,  shar'^ly  defined  Westeri 
Ego,  The  coming  of  Christianity  merged  the  Oriental  conception  of  infinity 
and  the  Occidental  idea  of  personality  and  Romanticism  resulted,- 

"Kow  it  was  the  great  work  of  the  first  Christian  centuries  to  merge  the 

(2)  Paul  Elmer  More,  "The  Drift  of  Romanticism,”  Shelburne  Essays,  Eighth  Ser- 
ies, VI,  226  ” 

(1)  Paul  Elmer  More,  ’’The  Drift  of  Romanticism’;  Shelburne  Essays,  Eighth  Ser- 

Introduction,  15 


5 

Oriental  and  Occidental  conceptions  of  infinity  and  ncrsonrl'  Ly  to-'otner  Into 
a strange  and  fruitful  union,  - - - To  that  alliance,  if  to  any  definite  event 
of  history,  we  may  trace  the  birth  of  our  sense  of  an  infinite,  insatiable  per- 
sonality, that  has  brought  as  much  self-torment  and  so  much  troubled  beauty  into 

(1) 

the  religion  and  literature  of  the  modern  world.'* 

Babbitt  also  thinics  the  spirit  arose  in  emotional  pastoralism,  and  he  con- 
demns the  entire  movement  because  of  its  “fruits  in  experience,"  This  "Arcadian 

(2) 

longing,  the  pursuit  of  the  dream  woman,  the  aspiration  toward  the*  infinite*," 
led  to  the  most  depraved  living  and  most  extravagant  decadentieL  in  artistic  ex- 
pression, The  spirit  was  an  outgrowth  of  the  romantic  imagination,  the  conse- 
quent melting  of  man  into  outer  natinre,  which  process  took  place  through  reverie 
"Had  I,  my  dear  Collins,  the  pen  of  Rousseau,"  wrote  Southey  in  1793,"! 
would  attenpt  to  desor^be  the  various  scenes  which  have  presented  themselves  to 
me,  and  the  various  emotions  occasioned  by  them,  - — what  sense  can  be  more 

calculated  to  e^and  the  soul  than  the  sight  of  nature  in  all  her  loveliest 
(3) 

works?"  And  we  may  conpare  Rousseau  and  Wordsworth;-  Rousseau,  as  he  descrnjec 

the  first  savage,  wandering  forever  under  the  shade  of  a?gnifiCent  forests,  or 

by  the  side  of  mighty  rivers,  smit  with  the  love  of  naturei-  end  Wordsv’orto,  as 

he  exults  over  the  discovery  of  the  linnet's  nest  "with  five  eggs  of  blue." 

"Both  weave  numberless  recollections  into  one  sentiment;  both  wind  their  own 

('i) 

being  round  whatever  object  occurs  to  them." 

Leslie  Stephen  takes  the  movement  back  to  the  seventeenth  century  deism. 

Before  that  time  man,  content  with  a tutelary  deity  had  held  little  controversy 

over  the  general  workings  of  the  universe.  But  finally,  "through  the  roof  of 

the  little  theatre  on  which  the  drama  of  maii*s  history  had  been  enacted,  men 

began  to  see  the  eternal  stars  shining  in  silent  contempt  ipon  their  petty  im- 

(4)  "The  Collected  Y/orks  of  William  Hazlitt,”  A.  R,  Waller  and  Harold  Glover, 

Vol.  I,  "The  Round  Table,"  3ssay,*"0n  the  Character  of  Rousseau,"  92,  51 

(3 1 Frederick  E.  Pierce,  "Currents  and  Eddies  in  theEnglish  Romantic  Generation, 
(E)  Babbitt,  "Rousseau  and  Romanticism,  Chapter  VIII,  278 
(1)  Paul  Elmer  More,  "The  Drift  of  Romanticism,"  Shelburne  Essays,  Seventh 
Chapter  I,  26 


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6 

aginings,  They  began  to  siispect  that  the  wliole  scenery  was  but  a fabric  woven 

(1) 

of  their  imaginations,"  Great  astronomical  and  geographical  discoveries 

"enlarged  men's  conception  - it  is  no  paradox  - of  the  Infinite.  - - - The  Uni- 

ts) 

verse,  which  had  been  potentially  infinite  was  becoming  actually  infinite." 

And  it  was  the  same  tendency,  for  a long  time  dormant,  which  he  thihfcs  burst 
forth  in  the  romanticist’s  desire  for  the  new  and  the  strange.  Of  such  a birth 
is  Wordworth's  wish  that  he  could  be  "a  pagan  suckled  in  some  creed  outworn." 

Y/hatever  is  the  true  analysis  of  the  main  source  of  the  motiv,^^ting  snirit 
of  the  romantic  movement,  it  must  have  been  connected  with  pome  exaggerated  ten- 
dency of  man's  own  nature,-  Ms  egoistic  tendency  to  expand  in  the  direction  of 
his  own  personal  desires,  his  pastoral  enjoyment  of  nature  as  nature  helped  liim 
to  realize  Mmself,  his  desire  for  variety  and  change  in  life,  Ms  spiritual 
thirst  for  an  unattainable  ideal  outside  of  nature,  or  desire  for  the  effort 
which  would  carry  him  away  from  the  established  order  of  tMngs,-  All  of  these 
tendencies  entered,  more  or  less  into  Ms  "sense  of  the  infinite," 

Perhaps  the  spirit  arose,  as  iiadame  de  dtaal,says,  when  the  sense  of  a 
spiritual  force,  always  a human  quality,  became  not  a burden  but  instead  an  en- 
joyment and  an  inspiration  to  the  soul.  She  centers  the  chief  difference  be- 
tween the  romantic  and  classic  sense  of  the  infinite  in  the  variation  between 

Christianity  and  Paganism.  She,  too,  links  the  spirit  with  nature,  but  in  a 

(3) 

different  way,-  "Nature  has  arrayed  the  infinite  in  symbols,"  and  here  she  give! 
a hint  justifying  the  romantic  use  of  symbols  in  artistic  expression.  So  inde- 
terminable is  this  sense  of  the  infinite  that  only  through  symbols  can  it  be 
expressed  in  human  terms, 

Oliver  Elton  thinks  the  Romantic  Movement  has  to  do  with  t:ie  "convslescenc 

(4) 

of  the  feeling  for  beauty,"  not  an  interest  in  "streaigeness  in  ^eauty"  or  the 

"sense  of  wonder,"-  such  terms  may  do,  so  Arthur  Symons  says  as  literary  short- 

(4)  Oliver  Elton,  "A  Survey  of  /jnglish  Literature,"  - 1780-1830  -Vol.l,  GhapX,9 
(3)  Madame  de  Stael,  Germany,  0,  W,  vvright,  Vol.II,  Chapter  I,  E90 
(2)Leslle,3tephen,"English  Thought  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  Yol.I,  Chap. II, 8 

( Leslie  Stephen,  "English  Thought  in  the  Eighteenth  Century, "Yol.I,  Chap. ll, 81 


* (1) 

hand,  as  lihtthev/  Arnold’s  phrase,  ’the  critioisra  of  life;’-  but  the  real  source 

of  the  spirit  is  found  in  the  rejuvinated  senses  of  the  artist.  This  he  gains 

as  Walter  Bagehot  says,  by,-"Much  musing,  little  studying,  fair  scholarship,  an 

atmosphere  of  the  classics,  curious  fancies,  much  persuing  of  pamphlets,  light 

(2) 

thoughts  on  heavy  folios,"  -all  of  which  raalte  the  meditative,  inactive  attitude 
on  the  part  of  the  poet,  nature  comes  forth  from  the  baclcground  and  assumes  a 
different  aspect.  The  roruantic  poets  saw  nature  wrapped  in  the  haze  of  the  im- 
agination. Wordsworth,  perhaps,  as  Arthur  Symons  imagines,  saw  the  objects  of 
that  nature  in  pure  white  light;  Keats  caught  them  in  a prism  of  his  own;  and 
Shelley,  no  doubt,  saw  them  all  bathed  in  white  moonbeams. 

But  the  romanticistliiimself  thought  that  in  his  sense  of  the  infinite  he 
had  acquired  something  different.  Evolution  meant  more  than  Darwin  had  estab- 
lished and  Huzley  surmised.  It  spelled  greater  ’’possibility.’*  Looking  at  sci- 
ence in  its  relation  to  an  incalcuable  infinite  he  saw  possibilities  of  grMp*' 
ing,  by  his  own  enlarged,  human  means,  the  indeterminable.  In  defiance  of  the 

doctrine,  ”The  human  mind  remains  essentially  the  same  and  varies  only  as  one 

(3) 

or  another  element  comes  uppermost,”  -the  romanticist  claimed  evolution  to  be 
extended  to  an  inteUectual  and  spiritual  growth  into  infinity. 

Time  to  him,  then,  meant  nothing. - 

”Yet  pause,  and  plunge 
Into  Eternity,  where  recorded  time. 

Even  all  that  we  imagine,  age  on  age. 

Seems  but  a point,  and  the  reluctant  mind 
Flags  wearily  in  its  unending  flignt, 

(4) 

Till  it  sihK,  dizzy,  blind,  lost,  shelterless;" 

(4)  Shelley,  "Pometheus  Unbound,"  Shelley's  "Oomplete  Poetical  works," 

(3)  p!l!S”tor^»rer'*S^e^Brilt  of  Bomantlolsm,"  Shelburne  Essays,  Eighth 
(E)  "?^e"«“Llf;  of  ^alter  Bagehot,"  Eussell  Barrington,  Vol.  I, 

(1)  ;^ons7''“CRo^tio"^vement  in  ^Ush  Poetry,  " Introduction  17 


55:^  


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9 

From  things  deformed,  or  disarranged,  or  gross 

(1) 

In  species?" 

"With  respect  to  original  sin  the  inquiry  is  not  necessary;"  Jo'nnaon  said  on 
one  occasion  when  Boswell  approached  him  on  the  subject  to  original  sin  and  at- 
onement, -"for  men  are  evidently  and  confessedly  so  corrupt,  that  all  the  laws 

(2) 

of  heaven  and  earth  are  insufficient  to  restrain  them  from  crimes,"  But  BidBrob 
reflecting  the  romanticist’s  ideals,  says  in  answer  to  the  Poet's  question  - 
^Do  you  mean  to  say  that  human  nature  is  good?" 

"Yes,  my  friend,  it  is  very  good.  Water,  air,  earth,  fire,-  everything  in 
nature  is  good, It  is  wretched  conventionalities  that  pervert  man.  Human 

(3) 

nature  should  not  be  accused,” 

Through  his  relation  to  the  infinite  the  romanticist  felt  his  freedom,  his 

lacic  of  need  for  dependence  upon  restraint  in  anything.  So  Franhe  speaks  of  the 

joyous  optimism  of  the  age.  It  believed  in  a future.  It  believed  in  humanity, 

and  that  humanity  was  advancing  toward  perfection.  It  held  that  "the  time  must 

come  when  good  would  be  done  because  it  was  good;  when  instinct  and  duty  would 

(4) 

be  reconciled," 

With  the  lack  of  restraint  went  a faith  in  the  illimitrble  creative  ;cover 
of  man.  So  Hugo  says  in  his  Preface  to  "Cromwell,"-  "Behold,  then,  © new  relig- 
ion and  a new  society;  upon  this  two-fold  foundation  there  must  inevitably  spring 
(5) 

a new  poetry,"  And  Madame  de  Stael  says,  "The  infinite  consists  in  the  absence 
of  limits,  but  the  feeling  of  the  infinite,  such  as  the  imagination  and  heart 

Ci) 

experience  is  positive  and  creative," 

(6)  Hadame  de  Stael,  "Germany,"  Vol.II,  268 

(5)  Victor  Hugo,  Preface  to"Gromwell,"  "iifuropean  Theories  of  the  Drama,"  Barett 
H.  Clark  368 

(4)  PranJce,  "Social  Forces  in  German  Literature,"  330 

(3)  Diderot,  De  la  Poesie  dramatique.  Oiluvies  ed.  Assezat,-1875-  Vii,  312,  quot- 
\ ed  by  Bernbaum,  "The  Drama  of  Sensibility;"  chapter  I,  2 

(5)  James  Boswell,  "Life  of  Johnson,  G.  B,  Hill,  Vol.  IV,  123 

(1)  William  whitehead.  "The  Jinthusiast,"  Bernbaum,  "iSnglish  Poets  of  the  eight- 
eenth Century,  150 


— — 1 

Out  of  his  sense  of  the  infinite  the  romanticist  constructed  a new  philoso- 
phy of  life,  and  adopted  a new  system  of  ethics.  According  to  his  idea  the  pasi 
with  its  old  restrictions  and  its  crusty  conventions  was  to  be  sloughed  off,  anc 
humanity  was  to  spring  forth  in  “newness  of  life,"  As  expressed  in  "Faust, 

In  loftiest  flight,  fancy  still  strives  amain 
To  reach  its  limit,  but  still  strives  in  vain- 

Yet  minds  who  dare  behind  the  veil  to  press, 

(1) 

In  the  Unbounded,  bounded  faith  possess," 

Out  of  his  "boundless"  faith  in  the  "Unbounded"  grew  certain  romantic  relation- 
ships with  himself,  his  ideal,  and  his  expression  of  himself  and  thrt  ideal,  in 
which  we  are  particularly  interested  under  the  romantic  ten  ency  toward  reverie 
symbolism,  and  enthusuasm, 

(1)  Charles  M.  Baicewell,  "The  Philosophy  of  G<xthe‘s  Faust,"  Chapter  IV,  92 


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11 


ROMANTIC  REVERI3 

The  romanticist,  by  means  of  reverie,  partook  of  a sort  of  infinitude.  In 
conter^jlation  sense  impressions  were  dravjn  out,  - the  kiss  of  b moment  becrtme 
a life-long  memory,  the  scene  of  singular  beauty  became  rn  enduring  after-image, 
the  experience  of  sorrow  steeped  the  emotions  in  a sentiment  to  be  enjoyed  in 
retrospect,  - and  in  seasons  of  reverie  all  such  impressions  lived  lastingly. 
With  Keats  the  romanticist  could  exclaim,  - 

"On  the  shore 

Of  the  wide  world-  I stand  alone  and  think."  (1) 

On  the  brink  of  eternity  with  contemplations,  dreams,  visions,  the  romanticist 
sent  his  mind  into  infinity.  "My  mind  to  me  a kingdom  is,"  he  could  exclaim 
with  introspective  interest,  and  life  itself  became  a period  for  the  passive 
enjoyment  of  that  kingdom. 

Reverie  was  dependent  upon  leisure,  and  was  the  hectic  phase  of  meditation 
wnich  resulted  in  feverish  philosophy,  ardent  romantic  longing,  and  irrevelant 
romantic  expression.  Ghatraubriand  who  tried  to  find  (jod  and  the  human  soul 
through  romantic  reverie  says,  - 

"I  love  all  waste 

And  solitary  places;  where  we  taste 

The  pleasure  of  believing  what  we  see 

Is  boundless,  as  we  wish  our  souls  to  be."  (2) 

2.  Babbitt,  "Ronssean  and  Romanticism"  quoted  from  description  of  Ma"ns  seen 
by  moonlight,  284. 

1.  Alden,  "Introduction  to  Poetry",  p.29. 


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More,  in  liis  "Drift  of  HonaanticisEi''q.uotes  Y;alter  Pater,  - "V/hile  all  melts  under 

our  feet,  vie  may  well  grasp  at  any  exq.uisite  passion  or  any  contribution  to 

knowledge  that  seems  by  a lifting  of  the  horizon  to  set  the  spirit  free  for  a 

moment,  or  any  stirring  of  the  senses,  strange  dyes,  strange  colors,  and  curious 

(1) 

odours,  or  the  work  of  the  artist’s  hands  or  the  face  of  one's  friends." 

In  the  "eternal  flux  of  things"  success  in  life  depends,  always,  upon  burning 

with  this  "hard  gem-like  flame,"  and  maintaining  this  ecstacy.  And  the  way  to 

live  life  to  its  fullest  according  to  these  principles  is  by  moans  of  reverie 

and  leisure,  with  senses  which  are  sharpened  by  a "certain  chastity  of  use," 

Ronssean  was  the  most  sincere  devotee  of  this  sort  of  religion  of  the  senses. 

He  often  said  that  his  experiences  were  more  vivid  in  memory  then  they  were 

in  actuality.  Babbitt  holds  that  he  confused  "mefiita'ion"  anc!  "reverie." 

Mosley  and  others  hold  that  he  v;as  a more  thoughtful  crertor  th?n  voltf?ire*  but 

the  fact  remains  that  with  him  "reverie"  was  a process  of  extracting  tne  essence 

of  an  esqperience  in  memory,  and  v;as  not  closely  connected  either  with  thought  or 

creation,  though  it  might  have  been  a background  for  both. 

Hazljtt  felt  the  spirit  in  Ronssean  and  responded  to  it.  - "ijalk  of  the 

ideall"  This  is  the  only  true  ideal  - the  heavenly  tints  of  fancy  reflected  in 

the  bubbles  tliat  float  upon  the  spring  tide  of  human  life. 

"Oh  memory,  shield  me  from  the  world's  poor  strife 
And  give  these  scenes  thine  everlasting  lifel  " (2) 

In  the  same  spirit  he  writes  of  Ronssean' s "Confessions",  - "sweet  is  the  dew 

(3) 

of  their  memory,  and  pleasant  the  balm  of  their  recollection."  And  again  he 

says,  "’IThat  to  me  constitutes  the  great  charm  of  the  "Confessions"  of  Ronssean 

is  their  turning  so  much  upon  this  feeling,  (i.e.  of  recollection).  He  seems 

3. "The  Collected  V/orks  of  Wm.Hazlitt"  (A.R.Waller  and  Arnold  Glover)  Vol.YIII, 
Essay  XX,  "Cn  Reading  Old  Books",  227. 

2, "The  Collected  worlcs  of  VAn.Hazlitt"  (A.R.V/aller  and  Arnold  Glover)  Vol.VIII, 
Essay  XX,  "On  Reading  Old  Books",  222, 

1.  E.P.More,  "The  Drift  of  Romanticism",  Ch.Walter  pater,  109, 


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to  gather  up  the  past  moments  of  his  being  like  drops  of  honey-dew  to  distil  a 

precious  liquor  from  them,  his  alternate  pleasures  and  pains  are  the  bead  roll 

that  he  tells  over  and  piously  worships;  he  makes  a rosary  of  the  flowers  of 

(2) 


hope  and  fancy  that  strewed  his  earliest  yesrs,” 


There  are  sonnets  of  Bowles  which  ’’continue  the  elegr-ic  strain  of  Shenrtone, 

(1) 

Gray,  Collins  and  the  whole  II  Penseroso  school,” 


’’There  is  strange  music  in  the  stirring  wind 

When  lowers  the  autumn  eve,  and  all  alone 

To  the  dark  woods’  cold  cover  thou,  art  gone 

Whose  ancient  trees,  on  the  rough  slope  reclined, 

(2) 

Rock,  and  at  times  scatter  their  tresses  sear.” 

Here  is  the  ’’autumnal”  note  which  Babbitt  remarks  is  ciiaracteristic  of  romantic 
reverie  and  sentiment  toward  ziatxjre. 

Samuel  Sogers  in  his  ”Pleasures  of  Memory”  sets  forth  joys  of  solitude  and 
recollection,- 


”Hail,  Memory,  haill  thy  universal  reign 
Guards  the  least  link  of  being’s  glorious  chain.” 


(3) 


Prom  her  ’’the  bosom-spring  of  fancy  flows;”  from  her  ”Hope  her  airy  coloring 
draws . ” 

(4) 

”Sol  Memory  bursts  the  twilight  of  the  mind” 


(5) 

”She  is  the  sacred  gaestl  the  immortal  friend!” 

(5)  Samuel  Rogers,  ”The  Pleasures  of  Memory,”  ”The  poeticKl  Works  of  Ssmuel 
Rogers.”  (Sdvjard  Bell)  19 

(4)  Samuel  Rogers,  ’’The  Pleasures  of  Memory,”  ’’The  Poetical  Works  of  Samuel 
Rogers.”  (Edward  BaL  1)  18 

(3)  Samuel  Rogers,  ’’The  Pleasures  of  Memory,”  ’’The  Poetical  Works  of  Samuel 
Ro  ger  s . ” ( Edv/ar d B eL  1 ) 15 

(2)  Bowles,  Sonnet  XX,  “November,"  Beers,  ”A  History  of  English  Romanticism  In 
The  Hineteenth  Century.”  Chapter  III,  Rote  61. 

(1)  Beers,  ”A  History  of  English  Romanticism  In  The  Sineteenth  Century,” 
Chapter  III,  59, 


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14 

(1) 

”Twilight*s  soft  dews  steal  oter  the  village  green” 
and  as  the  Gothic  tower  awes  more  deeply  at  evening,  - with  its  “hroicen  arch 
and  ivied  wall,”  so,  - 

Oft  at  the  silent,  shadowy  close  of  day, 

When  the  hushed  grove  has  sung  its  parting  lay; 

V/hen  pensive  Twilight,  in  her  duslcy  car. 

Comes  slowly  on  to  meet  the  evening-star; 

Above,  below,  aerial  murmurs  swell, 

Prom  hanging  wood,  brown  heath,  and  bushy  dell I 
A thousand  nameless  rijls,  that  shun  the  light. 

Stealing  soft  music  on  the  ear  of  night. 

So  oft  the  finer  movements  of + the  soul. 

That  shun  the  sphere  of  Pleasure’ s gs>y  control. 

In  the  still  shades  of  calm  Seclusion  rise, 

(2) 

And  breathe  their  sweet,  seraphic  harmonies;" 

And  at  last  the  "fond  Enthusiast”  comes  forth  exultantly,  - 

"Hail,  Memory,  hail;  in  they  exhaustless  mine 
From  age  to  age  unnumbered  treasures  shinel 
Thought  and  her  sliadowy  brood  thy  call  obey. 

And  Place  and  Time  are  subject  to  thy  swayl 
Thy  pleasures  most  we  feel,  when  most  alone; 

The  only  pleasures  we  can  call  our  own* 

Lifter  than  air,  Hope*s  summer-vision  die. 

If  but  a fleeting  cloud  obscure  the  sky; 

If  but  a beam  of  sober  Keason  play, 

(2)  Samuel  Hogers,  "The  Pleasures  of  Elemory,”  "The  Poetical  Works  of  Samuel 
Eogers.”  (Edward  Bell)  22 

(1)  Samuel  Hogers,  "The  Pleasures  of  Memory,”  "The  poetical  Works  of  Samuel 
Rogers."  (Edward  Bell)  4 


*v 


It 

So,  Fancy* s fairy  frost-worJc  melts  avvayl 
But  can  the  v/iles  of  Art,  the  grasp  of  Power 
Snatch  the  rich  relics  of  a well-spent  hour? 

These,  when  the  trembling  spirit  wings  her  flight. 

Pour  round  her  path  a stream  of  living  light; 

And  gild  those  pure  and  perfect  realms  of  rest, 

(1) 

*»hose  Virtue  triumphs,  and  her  sons  are  blest 

William  Hazlitt  in  his  essay  ”0n  the  Past  and  Future”  seys,-”Ye  woods  that 
crown  the  clear  lone  brow  of  Horman  Court,  why  do  I revisit  ye  so  oft,  and  feel 
a soothing  consciousness  of  your  presence,  but  that  your  iiigh  tops  waving  in  the 
wind  recall  to  me  the.  hours  and  years  that  are  forever  fled,  that  ye  renew  in 

ceaseless  murmurs  the  story  of  long-cherished  hopes  and  bitter  disappointments, 
that  in  your  solitudes  andtangled  wilds  I can  wonder  and  lose  myself  as  I wan- 
der on  and  am  lost  in  the  solitude  of  my  own  heart;  and  that  as  your  rustling 
branches  give  the  loud  blast  to  the  waste  below  - borne  on  the  thoughts  of  other 
years,  I can  looh  down  into  patient  anguish  at  the  cheerless  desolation  which  i 
feel  withini”  Without  that  face  pale  as  the  primrose  with  hyncinthine  locks, 
for  ever  shunning  and  for  ever  haxmting  me,  mocking  my  wrking  thoughts  as  in  ^ 
dream,  without  that  smile  which  my  heart  could  never  turn  to  scorn,  without  those 
eyes,  dark  with  their  own  lustre,  still  bent  on  mine,  and  drawing  tne  soul  into 
their  liquid  mazes  like  a sea  of  love,  without  that  name  trembling  in  fancy’s 

ear,  without  that  form  gliding  before  me  like  Oread  or  Dryad  in  fabled  groves, 

(2) 

what  should  I do,  how  pass  away  the  listless,  leaden-footed  hours?” 

Here  is  the  love  element  in  reverie,  which  grew  into  such  exa^erated  visions 

as  those  of  Shelley’s  **Alastor”  and  "i^ipsychidion.”  In  the  former  Shelley 

2.  ”The  Collected  Y/orks  of  William  Hazlett”  (Y/.S.  Henley)  Yol,  YI,  Essay  m, 
”0n  the  Past  and  Future”,  24, 

1,  Samuel  Roger’s,  ”The  Pleasures  of  Memory”,  ”The  podtical  Works  of  Samuel 
Rogers”.  (Edward  Bell)  29. 


16 


says  of  th.0  Poet,  wiio  typifies  himself, 


(1) 


"He  lived,  he  died,  he  sxmg  in^solitude." 

And,  the  - (2) 

...."poet  icept  mute  conference  with  his  own  soul." 


"I  do  not  ash  God,"  Gerard  de  Dov/al  is  said  to  have  remarhed,"  that  he 


should  change  me  in  regard  to  things,  so  that  I mi^t  iiave  the  power  to  create 

(3) 


my  o\m  xmi verse  about  me,  to  govern  my  dreams,  instead  of  enduring  them." 

And  in  accordance  with  an::j.ch  a v/ish  he  did  live  the  "inner  life  of  a dreamer;" 
but  it  is  a grim  truth  that  he  created  his  best  work  in  periods  of  insanity. 
Wordsworth,  in  his,  - 


(^) 


"pays  of  sweet  leisure  taxed  with  patient  thought" 
felt  the  spirit  of  solitude  and  linked  it  with  nature  and  humole  humanity.  - 
"I  wandered  lonely  as  a cloud 
That  floats  on  high  o’er  vales  and  hills 
When  all  at  once  I saw  a crowd, 

A host,  of  holden  daffodils; 


Beside  the  lake,  beneath  the  trees. 
Fluttering  and  dancing  in  the  breeze. 


I gazed  - and  gazed  - but  little  thought 
What  wealth  the  show  to  me  had  brought; 


For  oft,  when  on  my  couch  I lie 
In  vacant  or  in  pensive  mood. 

They  flash  upon  that  inward  eye 
Which  is  the  bliss  of  solitude; 

4.  V/ordsworth,”T}ae  Prelude",  "Wordsworth’s  Complete  poetical  works"  (Cambridge 
Edition)  125. 

3.  Arthur  Symons,  "The  Symbolist  Movement"  Chapter  III,  69. 

2,  Shelley,  "Alastor","Shelley’ s Complete  Poetical  Works" (Cambridge  Edition)  37 
1.  Shelley,  "Alastor", "Shelley’s  Complete  Poetical  Works" (Cambridge  Wdition)  37 


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Wero  discord  to  the  spealcing  quietude 

That  v;raps  this  moveless  scene.  Heaven’s  eboh  vault. 

Studded  with  stars  unuttera  .ly  bri{jht, 

xhrou^  -Wiiich  the  moon’s  unclouded  grandeur  rolls. 

Seem  like  a canopy  which  love  has  spread 

To  curtain  her  sleer)ing  v;orld.  Yon  gentle  xiills. 

Robed  in  a garment  of  untrodden  snow; 

Yon  darksome  rocks,  whence  icicles  depend. 

So  stainless,  that  their  white  and  gleaming  spires 

Tinge  not  the  moon’s  pure  beam;  your  castled  steep, 

Vi/hose  banner  hangeth  o’er  t2ie  time-worn  tower 

So  idly,  that  rapt  fancy  deemeth  it 

A metaphor  of  peace;  all  form  a scene 

V.Tiere  musing  solitude  might  love  to  lift 

Her  soul  above  this  sphere  of  earthiness; 

v/here  silence  undisturbed  might  watch  alo'ne, 

(1) 

So  cold,  so  bright,  so  still,” 

There  was  something  in  a dark  midnight  which  acted  as  an  anaesthetic  to 

the  day-sense  and  left  free  rein  to  tlmt  spirit  which  would  coimaane  with 

self  or  enjoy  the  ’’voluptuous  pain”  of  sorrovv  or  or  death.  This  joy  in 

sorrow  may  have  been  -Dsyciio logical,  since  one  extreme  of  emotion  awakes  its 

(2) 

opposite;”  yet  if  it  v/as  psychological  it  was  so  for  a whole  community 
of  early  writers.  Young  v;as  one  of  the  earliest  to  feel  the  influence 
of  night  upon  sentiment,  and  his  ’’Right  Thoughts,”  - new  in  form  and  inspir- 
ation, though  old  in  philosophy,  worked  a strong  influence  on  other  dreaming 

(2)  Words'worth  in  his  "Lines  Y/ritten  in  -“arly  Spring”  speaivs  about  it,  - 

"In  that  sv/eet  mood  when  pleasant  thoughts 
Bring  sad  thoughts  to  the  mind," 

(!)  Shelley,  "Queen'lfab,"  "Shelleyfe  Complete  Poetical  Works.”  (Crnnbrldge 
Edition) 


romanticists.  { 1)  The  ‘’mood”  of  it  v;as  wliat  captivated  lingland,  France  and 
Germany. 

"Are  passions,  then,  the  pagans  of  the  soul, 

(2) 

Seasons  alone  baptized?" 

struch  another  blow  at  reason  and  justified  the  later  cult  of  passionate 
romanticists. 

Fovalis  in  his  "Hymn  to  Si^t"  and  the  "restless  stars  that  swim  in  the 
blue  sea,"  - says  of  its  peace,  - 

"To  Thee,  ohl  Sacred,  Unspeakable  Sight I 
Par  away  the  world 

Lies  buried  as  if  in  some  deep  grave. 

How  deserted  and  lonely  are  her  high  places  I 

« 

Par  off  lies  the  world 
With  its  gaudy  delights. 

Hast  thou,  too  a human  heart, 

Lark  Sight? 

More  celestial  than  the  gliranering  stars 
Of  these  spaces 
Seem  the  invisible  eyes 
(2)  Young,  "Sight  Thoughts." 

(1)  Boswell's  "Johnson,"  {&.  3.  Hill)  Vol.  IV,  42.  - Johnson  in  a discussion 
one  day  when  he  seemed  to  prefer  Young's  descriptions  of  night  to  those  of 
Shalcespeare  or  Dryden,  - ended,  "Young  froths  and  foams  and  bubbles  sometimes 
vary  vigorously;  but  we  must  not  con^jare  the  noise  of  your  tea-kettle  with 
the  roaring  of  the  ocean," 


That  Night 


?0 


(K 

Opens  v/ithin  us." 

And  Madame  de  Stall,  in  alluding  to  night  and  the  introspective  mind  com- 

(2) 

pares  the  brilliant  dust  of  the  raillsy  way  to  thoughts  lost  in  the  infinite, 

Thomas  War  ton  in  "The  Pleasures  of  Melancholy"  thrills  the  thought,  - 

"0  then  }iow  fearful  it  is  to  reflect 

That  through  the  still  globe* s awful  solitude 

(5) 

Wo  being  wakes  but  rael" 

But  his  adjectives  of  fear  inroly  a joy  in  the  "sacred  genius  of  the  night" 
with  its  mystic  visions. 

Out  of  these  night  thoughts  end  contemplations  sprumg  the  desire  to 

philosophize  upon  death.  Throughout  all  such  egressions  there  is  the 

attempt  to  touch,  by  means  of  ideas,  tne  ineffable,  intangible  infinitude 

of  the  spirit.  The  unhealtliy  melancholy  of  night,  and  the  projection  of 

the  personality  upon  itself  led  to  the  attempt  to  sense  the  beyond.  There 

is  Parnell* s "Wight  Piece  on  Death,  1721,"  in  pseudo-classic  form  with  its 

unpleasant  allusions  to  graves  that  "nameless  heave  the  crumbled  ground," 

and  with  its  rather  smugly  melancholy  conclusion  that,  - 

"Death*  s but  a path  that  must  be  trod 

(4) 

If  man  would  ever  pass  to  G-od," 

But  the  atmosphere  and  inspiration  of  the  thing  is  decidedly  that  to  a 
romanticist  in  a mood  of  reverie, 

Blair  in  "The  Grave,"  about  twenty-two  years  later  (1743)  talces  the  same 

theme,  adds  more  ghosts  and  strange  noises,  - both  romantic  preferences  a 

(4)  Thomas  Parnell,  "A  Wight  Piece  on  ^eath,"  Berbaum,  "Poets  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century,"  85 

(3)  Thomas  li7arton,  "The  Pleasures  of  Melancholy,"  Berbaum,  "poets  of  the 
Eighteenth  Onetury,"  175 
(2) "Germany, "Madame  de  Stael,  Vol.  II,  289 

(1)  Wovalis,  "Hymn  to  Wight,"  "The  Descinlep  of  Spi?  p.nd  Other  Fr'-gments." 
(Transl.  Ger.,  with  Introduction,  Una  Tirch) 


9 

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21 

a little  amplified,-  and  concludes  that, 

«»Tis  but  a night,  a long  and  moonless  night, 

(1) 

vVe  make  our  grave  our  bed,  and  then  are  gone,” 

It  is  the  same  theme  which  Gray,  in  such  x^erfect  langizage  retells  in 
the”Slegy.”  It  is  this  poem  which  Bagehot  in  his  essay  on  Hartley  Coleridge 
refers  to  as  the  early  romantic  lyric  most  nearly  approaching  what  he  defines 
as  the  "egotistical”  literary  product.  The  egotistical  poem  is  one  7/hich  is 
a pure  expression  of  self  - not  as  a lyric,  merely  a reflection  of  a phase 
of  self,  one  single  emotion,  - but  the  type  of  expression  which  is  permeated 
with  all  of  self. 

Young  touches  upon  the  grasp  of  the  infinite  in  hianan  woe  more  surely 
than  the  later  writers.  He  does  it  with  a melancholy  richness  of  emotion 
and  a throbbing  sympathy  of  mind  and  heart  which  denotes  real  pler.sare  in  psin, 

”Ky  hopes  and  fears 

Start  up  alarmed,  and  o’er  life’s  narrow  verge 
Lools  down  - On  wliat?  a fathomless  abyss; 

A dread  eternity I how  surely  mine. 

And  can  eternity  belong'  to  me. 

Poor  pensioner  on  the  bounties  of  an  hour? 

Hov/  poor,  how  rich,  hov;  abject,  how  august, 

How  con-plicate,  how  wonderful,  is  man  I 
How  passing  vrander  He,  who  made  him  suchl 
YThocentered  in  our  make  such  strange  extremes  I 
From  different  natures  marvelously  mixt. 

Connection  exquisite  of  distant  worlds; 

Distinguished  link  in  being’s  endless  chain; 

(1)  Hebert  Blair,  "The  Grave,”  Berbaum,  "Poets  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,”  3£ 


?? 

liidTTay  from  nothing  to  Deityl 

Helpless  immortal:  insect  infinite: 

A worm:  a God:  I tremble  at  myself. 
And  in  myself  am  lost: 


Oh  what  a miracle  to  man  is  manl” 

Out  01  such  rexlections  and  meditations  upon  man  in  his  relation  to  infinity 

grew  allusions  to  man  and  his  relation  to  tne  lesser  entities  of  the  universe. 

The  same  breath  which  could  utter,  "A  worm’,  a godj”  in  a characterization  of 

man,  could  later  voice  ideas  concerning  the  conceived  connection  between  the 

two.  Through  reverie  the  individual  entered  into  relationship  with  nature  and 

htiraanity  as  a whole,  iTordsworth  could  spealc  in  general  of  a ’’granduer  in 

(2) 

the  beations  of  the  heart,” 


“Viihile  with  an  eye  made  quiet  by  the  power 

Of  harmony  , and  the  power  of  joy, 

(5) 

We  see  into  the  life  of  things," 

Byron  feels  this  mystic  fellowship  for  nature, - 

”I  live  not  in  myself,  but  I become 

(4) 

Portion  of  that  around  me,” 

The  strength  of  it  sweeps  over  him  in  solitude, 

”V/hen  stirs  the  feeling  infinite,  so  felt 
In  solitude  when  we  are  least  alone; 

A truth  which  throgh  our  being  then  doth  melt 


And  purifies  from  self;  it  is  a tone, 

(fc)  Wordsworth,  ''Growth  of  a Poet’s  liind,”  ’’Twelve  Centuries  of  English 
Poetry  and  Prose,”  Eewcomer  and  Andrews,  421, 

(1)  Young,  "ITight  Thoughts,”  Chalmers  XIII,  420, 

(3)  Vvordsworth,  "Tintern  Abbey,”  ’’Twelve  Centuries  of  English  Poetry  and  irose' 

Newcomer  and  Andrews,  417. 

(4)  Byron,  "Childe  Harold,” 


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Like  to  the  fahled  Qy therea’s  zone 

Binding  all  things  with  beauty;  t'would  disarm 

The  spectre  Death,  had  he  substantial  power  to  harm,”  (1) 

'Wordsworth  sounds  the  same  note  again,  more  subjectively, 

”And  I have  felt 

A presence  that  disturbs  me  with  joy. 

Of  elevated  thoughts;  a sense  sublime 

Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused. 

Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns. 

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All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 

(2)  (3) 

And  rolls  through  all  things,” 

Then,  out  of  this  sort  of  reverie  and  solitude  grew  mystical  religion  and 
pantheism,  Man  as  a part  of  nature,  sensing  his  kinship,  and  indiscriminately 
mixing  his  spirit  through  all  things  let  loose  his  emotions  tgjon  the  theme  of 
religion  and  nature, 

3,  Hazlitt,  Vol,  I,  "Essay  on  Mr,  Wordsworth’s  Excursion”, 112,  - ”He  may  be 
said  to  create  his  own  materials;  his  thoughts  are  his  real  subjects.  His 
understanding  broods  over  that  which  is  ’without  form  and  void’  and  ’makes 
it  pregnant,'  He  sees  all  things  in  himself,  - Thus  his  descriptions  of 
natural  scenery  are  not  brought  home  distinctly  to  the  naked  eye  by  forms 
and  circumstances,  but  every  object  is  seen  through  the  medium  of  innumerable 
recollections,  is  clothed  with  the  haze  of  irasginahion  like  a glittering 
vapour,  is  obscured  with  the  excess  of  glory,  and  has  the  shadowy  brightness 
of  a waking  dream,” 

2,  Words?;orth,  "Tintern  Abbey”,  "Twelve  Centuries  of  English  poetry  and  Prose” 
(Hewcomor  and  Andrews)  417 
1,  Byron,  "Childe  Harold”,  Canto  III,  90, 


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■3arly  Iiad  he  learned 

ro  reverence  the  volume  timt  displays 

The  mysteries,  the  life  which  cannot  die; 

But  in  the  mountains  did  he  feel  his  faith 

All  things  responsive  to  the  writing  there 

Breathed  immortality,  revolving  life. 

And  greatness  still,  revolving  , infinite; 

(1) 

There  littleness  was  not.” 

The  same  idea,  in  a revolt  against  the  world  as  sin^jly  a mass  of  little  t.. 

things  comes  forth  in  Coleridge’s  “Biographia  Literaria.”  ”Hiy  mind  feels  as  if 

it  ached  to  behold  and  know  something  great,  something  one  and  indivisible. 

And  it  is  only  in  the  faith  of  that,  tliat  rocks  or  waterfalls,  motaitains  or 

caverns  give  me  the  sense  of  sublimity  of  majesty]  But  in  this  faith  all  things 

(2) 

counterfeit  infinity!’.’ 

Coleridge’s  - ’’all  things  counterfeit  infinity”  expresses  a basis  for 

romantic  symbolism,  which  Schelling  in  "Transcendental  Idealism"  expresses 

' 

another  way,-  "every  single  work  of  art  represents  I-'-tfini ty!" 

With  animate  nature  the  romanticist  rather  tardily  foimd  his  kinship. 

Henry  Booke  in  1735  gave  forth  his  theory  in  "Universal  Beauty.”  He  insisted 

upon  a deity  in  every  atom  shrined"  and  err^hasiaed  the  "Splendor  of  insects," 

(3) 

"morals  from  animal  life,"-  and  the  promptings  of  "divine  instinct."  Blake 
later  in  "Auguries  of  Innocence"  says,- 

(3)  Henry  Booke, "Universal  Beauty,"  Bernbaum,  "English  Poets  of  the  Eighteenth 

Century",  341 

(2)  Alden,  "Introduction  to  Poetry, "11 

Schelling,  "Transcendental  Idealism,"  LXVII,  LXVIII 
(1)  Coleridge,  "Biographia  Literaria,"  J.  Showeress,  1907 


?5 

To  see  a world  in  a grain  of  sand. 

And  a heaven  in  a wild  flower. 

Hold  Infinity  in  the  palm  of  your  hand, 

(1) 

And  Eternity  in  an  hour,” 

And  in  another  place  he  sings,  - 

(2) 

»*Por  everything  that  lives  is  holyl” 

From  sentiments  lilce  these  arose  an  organized  human  feeling,  voicing 

(3) 

Hugo's,  "Love  all  things,  pity  all.” 

Children  came  in  for  their  share  of  interest  and  children's  noems  stinted 
and  queer,  lihe  Cowper's  early  ones,  found  expression,  it  was  liice  the 
evolution  of  the  child  in  art,  from  the  stunted,  miniature,  man-infants  of  the 
early  Christian  art  period,  - to  the  perfectly  formed  children  representative 
of  Haphael's  Christ,  Wordsworth  meditates  upon  it,  - 

"But  trailing  clouds  of  glory  do  we  come 
Prom  God,  who  is  our  home: 

(4:) 

Heaven  lies  about  us  in  our  infancyl" 

(4)  Words\7orth,  "Intimations  on  Immortality,”  V 

Compare  to  Wordsworth's  verses  these  selected  lines  from  Vaughn's 
"The  Hetreat,”  appearing  1650# 

"Happy  those  early  days,  when  I 
Shined  in  ray  angel  infancy; 

When  on  some  gilded  cloud  or  flower 
My  gazing  soul  would  dwell  an  hour. 

And  in  those  waking  glories  spy 
Some  shadows  of  eternity. 

And  felt  through  all  this  fleshly  dress 
Bright  shoots  of  everlastingness,” 

"English  Poems,”  Bronson  {1550-1560) 

(3)  Hugo,  "Lyrical  Poems”  (Henry  Lewellyn  Williams)  170  - "Poem  to  ray  Daughter*' 
"Hate  nothing,  0 my  child,  but  all  things  love. 

Or  pity  alll" 

(2)  V/illiam  Blake,  "A  Song  of  Liberty,”  Berba^mn,  "Poets  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century,”  334 

(1)  William  Blake,  "Auguries  of  Innocence,"  Bernbaura,  "Poets  of  the 
Ei^teenth  Century,"  339 


P6 

The  climax  of  such  expression  came  in  Tennyson’s  ”De  Profundis,”  for  he 
says  as  he  meditates  upon  the  birth  of  his  son,  - 

"Out  of  the  deep,  ray  child,  out  of  the  de^. 

Prom  that  true  world  within  the  world  v;e  see. 

Whereof  our  world  is  but  the  bounding  shore. 

Among  the  numerable  - innumerable 

Sun,  Sun,  and  sun,  throu^  finite- infinite  space 

In  finite-infinite  Time  - our  mortal  veil 

And  shatter’d  phantom  of  that  infinite  One 

Who  made  thee  inconceivably  Tliyself 

Out  of  his  whole  World  - self  and  all  in  all  - 

(1) 

Live  thoul’’ 

And  Lord  Macaulay  asserts,  "He  who,  in  a lightened  literary  society,  j^soires 

(?) 

to  be  a great  poet,  must  first  become  a little  cMld," 

Then,  touching  again  the  more  subjective  phase  of  reverie,  love  longing 

stands  out  as  a distinctive  feature  of  the  romantic  movement.  Rougseau 

live4it;  he  wrote  it  in  his  ’’Houvelle  Heloise"  and  ’’Confessions.”  Shelley 

touched  it  at  its  most  poetic  point  in  ’’Alastor."  It  was  a phase  of  egoism 

which  saw  self  inflected  in  some  sort  of  ideal  love,"  in  love  with  love"  is 

how  Babbitt  c liar ac ter izes  the  exaggerated  evidence  of  the  emotion.  Sometimes, 

as  in  Byron’s  "Don  Juan"  this  romantic  love  tools:  the  fom  of  passion  and 

unliJicenced  sentiment.  It  liad  its  various  phases,  most  generally  expressing 

itself  in  wild  longing  and  "dalliance  with  its  own  dream,"  Poe  e:roressed  it 

in  his  unreal  dream  women  in  stories  of  moonlight  and  exquisite  sorrow.  The 

lack  of  ethics  in  the  romantic  love  relationship  was  more  a matter  of  variation 

(2)  Macaulay,  "Essay  on  Milton,"  "The  Miscellaneous  Works  of  Lord  Macaulay," 
(Lady  Trevelyan)  (Comoiseur  Edition) 

(1)  Tennyson,  "De  Profundis,"  Cambridge  Edition,  483 


1 


f 7 

between  ideal  and  life,  than  any  direct  disregard  of  moral  principles. 

It  went  back  to  tiie  Medieval  Ages  in  inspiration.  I>ante*s  Beatrice, 
Boccaccio’s  Piacunetta,  and  Petrarch’s  Laura  are  back  of  ideal  women.  - 'Biere 
was,  too,  a link  joining  this  sort  of  idealism  and  the  religious  idealism 
which  earlier  formed  the  Virgin  cult,  The  spirit  expresses  itself  in  the 
whole  movement’s  tendency  to  the  medieval. 

It  was  not  a far  step  from  the  philosophical  reverie  that  connoted  self, 
nature  and  its  various  forms,  and  passionate  longing,  to  the  sort  of  reverie 
which  exalted  the  past  over  the  present.  Reverie,  in  any  sense,  whether  of 
vague  suppositions  in  regard  to  human  relationships,  of  love  longing,  or  of  the 
ideal  experiences  of  childhood,  was  dependent  upon  past  happenings,-  however 
roseate  they  might  have  appeared  in  retrospect,  Beside  the  merely  subjective 
interest  in  the  past,  which  through  Cowper  in  England  and  Roursesu  in  Prance 
introducing  the  "confessional”  type  of  romantic  writer,-  there  was  the  interest 
just  mentioned  in  touching  romantic  love,  which  had  the  tinge  of  idealism. 

From  Byron' s,- 

”Ie  scenes  of  my  childhood,  whose  loved  recollection 

(1) 

Smbitters.-ithe  present  conpared  with  the  past,” 

and  Novalis’s 

"iSie  Dramas  of  childhood 

The  short  Joys 

Of  all  a long  life. 

In  vain  hopes. 

Come  in  dark  garments 

Like  evening  mists 

After  the  Sun’s 

(2) 

Setting,” 

(2)  iTovalis,  ”The  Disciples  of  Sais  and  Other  Fragments",  (translated'  from  Germ^sn) 
"Hymn  to  Eight,” 

(1)  Byron,  "On  the  Distant  View  of  the  Village,”  Cambridge  edition,  96 


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S8 

which  exalt  the  esperiences  of  childhood,  there  is  not  a great  distance  in 

sentiment  to  the  romantic  exaltation  of  the  primitive  state  of  nature.  Hazlit'. 

speaks  of  the  Ba?t  ,-*»The  objects  that  we  have  known  in  our  better  days  are 

the  main  props  that  sustain  tne  weight  of  our  affections  and  give  us  strength 

to  await  our  future  lot.  I’he  future  is  like  a dead  wall  or  a thick  mirt  hiding 

all  objects  from  our  view:  trie  past  is  alive  end  stirring  with  objects  bright 

or  solemn  and  of  unfading  interest. All  that  strikes  the  imagination,  or 

(1) 

excites  any  interest  in  the  mighty  scene  is  what  has  be_eni  ” 

Only  a little  reverie  and  imagination  was  req,uired  to  extend  in  in^assiOn- 
ed  recollection  Wordsworth's  definition  of  poetry  as  '•emotion  recalled  in  tran- 
quility,” to  wiiat  Babbitt  calls  the  “narcotic  use  of  literature  and  history,” 
which  made  of  the  records  of  the  past  a gorgeous  pageant,  A queer  anonymous 
poem  appeared  in  1732  called  the  "Happy  Savage, 

"Oh  happy  he  who  never  saw  the  face 
Of  man,  nor  heard  the  sound  of  human  voice! 

But  soon  as  born  was  carried  and  exposed 
In  some  vast  desert,  suckled  by  the  wolf 
0r  shaggy  bear,  more  kind  than  our  fell  race; 

Who  with  his  fellow  brutes  can  range  around 
The  echoing  forest.  His  rude  artless  mind 
Uncultivated  as  the  soil,  he  Joins 
The  dreadful  harmony  of  howling  wolves. 

And  the  fierce  lions  roar;  while  far  sway 
The  affrighted  traveler  retires  and  tremoles. 
iis-PPy  "the  lonely  savage!  nor  deceived, 

I'lor  vexed,  nor  grieved;  in  every  darksome  cave. 

Under  some  verdant  shade,  he  talces  repose. 

Sweet  are  his  slumbers:  of  all  human  arts 
(1)  ifihe  Sollected  Works  of  William  Hazlett  (W.  ii.  Henley)  Vol.  VI. 

Ussaylll,  ”0n  the  Past  and  Future,”  25 


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29 

Happily  ignorant,  nor  taught  by  wisdom 


(1) 


numberless  woes  , nor  polished  into  torment. 


as  ever  lirifcing  vague  religion  and  romanticism,  says,- 


"With  the  ancients  Beligion  was  what  it  should  be  with  us,- 
(2) 


practical  Poetry." 

And  Wordsworth  in  his  conqDlaint,  "The  World  is  too  Much  with  Us,"  exclaims, - 
"Great  Godl  I*d  rather  be 

(3) 

A Pagan  suclcled  in  a creed  outworn;*' 

Such  reverie  embracing  past  life,  medieval  life,  or  primitive  exiptence, 
with  the  "blue  f'lawer"  symbolism,  vague  Arcadian  longing  and  ITtonir.n  dreams, 
represented,  indeed,  the  inactive  phrase  of  romanticism,  A romanticist  in 
solitude  thinking  over  his  ideal  experience  of  cnildhood,  or  love  v/as  an  idle 
person  practicing  "dalliance  with  his  own  dream."  But  such  a spirit  gave  birth 
to  two  centuries  of  lyrical  verse  in  various  extravagances  of  emotion.  It 
also  gave  birth  to  wild  and  unreasonable  longings,  passions,  and  e:q)ressions. 
But  it  was  the  romantic  dreamer  inspired  with  romantic  enthusiasm  who  attempt- 
ed to  move  the  world  along. 


(3)  Wordsworth,  "The  World  is  too  Much  With  Us." 

(2)  Hovalis,  "Selected  Thoughts,  The  Disciples  of  Sais  and  Other  Fragments.” 
translated  from  Greiman.  with  Introduction,Una  Brich.  76 
(1)  "The  Happy  Savage,"  Anonymous.  Bombaum,  "Poets  of  the  Sixteenth  Century,” 

page  121 


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ROMTIO  SBJBOLISM 

In  his  atten5>t  to  grasp  th.e  infinite  the  romanticist,  consciously  or  un-  ' 

consciously  interposed  some  representation  of  that  infinite  before  his  sight. 

It  was  by  means  of  symbols  that  he  made  for  himself  some  tangible  elements 

of  the  ideal,  toward  which  he  could  looh  and  worlc.  As  Carlyle  says  in  "Sartor 

Resartus,”  - "in  the  Symbol  proper,  what  we  can  call  a Symbol,  there  is  ever, 

more  or  less  distinctly  and  directly,  some  embodiment  and  revelation  of  the 

Infinite;  the  Infinite  is  made  to  blend  itself  with  the  Finite,  to  stand 

(1) 

visible,  and  as  it  were,  attainable  there." 

"The  least  flower  is  a thought,  a life  wMch  corresponds  to  seme  linea- 

ls) 

ments  of  the  great  whole,"  - Nothing  for  the  romanticist  is  inert  matter, 
everything  has  its  particle  of  the  universal  life.  And  he  iiolds  to  this  symbol^ 
it  may  be  a dream,  a lovely  and  elusive  vision  of  a woman,  the  image  of  a 
Virgin  mother,  a blue  flower;  and  it  may  be  the  means  of  lifting  him  out  of 
the  mire  of  sordidity  into  the  dizzy  heists  of  unreality,  or  it  may  be  the 
means  of  plunging  him,  as  it;  did  jarvis-Earl  Huspmans,  into  the  depths  of 
Satanic  realism. 

The  roroanticist,  not  only  employs  symbolic  expression  in  art,  literature 

and  music,  - but  he  defends  this  method  of  finding  a bond  between  the  Heavenly 

and  the  earthly.  "What  is  symbolism  if  not  an  establishing  of  the  liuEs  which 

hold  the  world  together,  the  affirmation  of  an  eternal,  minute,  intricate, 

almost  invisible  life,  v/hich  runs  through  the  whole  universe?  Every  age  has 

its  own  symbols;  but  a symbol  once  perfectly  expressed,  that  symbol  remains 

(2)  Arthur  Symons,  "The  Symbolist  Movement,"  Chapter  I,  20. 

(1)  Arthur  Symons,  "The  Symbolist  Movement,"  Intro,  3, 


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31 

as  Gothic  architecture  remains  the  very  soul  of  the  Middle  Ages,  To  get  at 

that  truth  which  is  aL 1 hut  the  deepest  meaning  of  beauty,  to  find  that 

symbol  which  is  its  most  adequate  erpression,  is  in  itself  a kind  of  crertion. 

(1) 

- - - Truth  can  be  reached  only  by  symbol,”  In  the  smbolic  use  of  rords 

in  poetry,  in  pure  realism  and  naturalism  such  an  instrument  as  s,^/mbolism  is 

maintaining  its  own;  it  is  only  when  Huspmans  compares  the  tower  witaout  a 

spire  to  an  unsharpened  pencil  which  cannot  write  the  prayers  of  earth  upon 

the  sky,  that  symbolism  reaches  an  excess  of  exactitude. 

Then,  there  is  Stephane  Mallarni,  who  in  his  prose-poetry,  the  “Autumn 

Lament,”  mth  his  sense  of  aloneness,  his  cat,  “a  mystical  con^janion,  a spirit,  ’ 

and  his  literature  of  Roman  decadence,  - revels  in  sjnnbolic  solitude  and 

sorrow  for  his  lost  Maria,  The  organ  under  his  v/indow,  in  the  twili^t  of 

memory,  sets  him  despairingly  dreaming.  He  weeps  "like  a romantic  ballad” 

at  its  old-fashioned  air,  - and  then  refrains  from  throv;lng  a penny  out  of  the 

window  for  fear  of  disturbing  his  impression  that  the  instrument  is  singing 

(2) 

by  itselfl” 

Then  there  is  Goethe  in  his  “Faust,”  in  his  symbolization  of  the  emanci- 
pation of  the  individual,  and  in  spite  of  Goethe’s  intention  “to  acknowledge 

(3) 

God  in  his  Infinite  aspects,  not  to  define  of  describe  Mm,”  he  almost  goes 

to  the  length  of  symbolizing  symbols  before  he  finishes  the  drama.  “Saving 

truth,”  says  Charles  Bakewell  in  “The  Philosophy  of  Goethe’s  Faust, “life  truth 

can  never  at  any  time  be  expressed  in  the  abstract  concepts  of  philosophy; 

for  these  never  are  and  never  can  be,  really  true.  It  must  find  espression, 

if  at  all  either  in  symbols,  poetic  concrete  images,  at  the  messianic  treatment 
{4} 

of  life  itself,”  But  whether  this  expression, takes  the  form  of  a sort  of 

(4)  Charles  H.  Bakewell,  “The  Philosophy  of  Goethe’s  Faust.” 

(3)  Goethe’s  “Faust,”  (Translation  of  Bayard  Taylor)  note  245. 

(2)  Selection,  Mallarni,  “Autumn  Lament,”  Arthiir  Symons,  “The  Symbolist 
Movement,”  Chapter  XI,  190-192, 

(1)  Arthur  Symons,  “The  Symbolist  Movement,”  Chapter  XIII,  272, 


3SL 

a sort  of  Jacob-Bohm  mysticism,  art  that  ”lives  with  its  own  life,”  or  life 
which  finds  its. truth  in  a Zoroaster,  a Buddah,  or  a Christ,  - it  is  primarily 
symbolic. 

"Symbolism,"  says  Arthur  Symons,  defending  the  tendency  as  a literary 
movement, "inplicit  in  all  literature  from  the  beginning,  as  it  is  implicit 
in  all  very  v/ords  we  use,  comes  to  us  now,  at  least  conscious  of  itself,  offer- 
ing us  the  only  escape  from  our  ms.ny  improvements.  We  find  a new,  an  older 
sense  in  the  so  worn-out  forms  of  things;  the  world,  v.hich  we  can  no  longer 
believe  in  as  the  satisfying  material  object  it  was  to  our  grandparents, 
becomes  transfigured  with  a new  light;  words  which  long  usage  had  dp.ricened 
almost  out  of  recognition,  take  fresh  lustre.  And  it  is  on  the  lines  of  that 
spiritulizing  of  the  word,  that  perfecting  of  form  in  its  capacity  for  allusion 
and  suggestion,  that  confidence  in  the  invisible  universe,  v/hich  Mallarni 

taught,  and  too  intermittently  practiced,  that  literature  must  now  move,  if  it 

(1) 

is  in  any  sense  to  move  forward." 

Heine  says,  "The  poet  is,  on  a small  scale,  but  the  imitator  of  the 
Creator,  and  also  resembles  God  in  creating  his  characters  after  his  own  image." 

(2)  And  "Beauty,"  says  Schelling,  "is  a finite  rendering  of  the  infinite." (3) 

So  Schlegel  says,  "beauty  is  a symbolical  representation  of  the  infinite,"  and 

(4) 

"all  poetry  is  an  everlasting  symbolizing."  Carlyle  holds,  - "It  is  in  and 

through  Symbols  t2iat  man,  consciously,  or  unconsciously  lives,  works,  and  has 

his  being;  those  ages,  moreover,  are  accounted  the  noblest  which  can  the  best 

(5) 

recognize  ssmibolical  worth,  and  prize  it  highest."  Goethe  speaks  of  nature 

as  an  infinite  number  of  symbols.  He  is  quoted  as  having  said  to  Sckerman, 

April  18,  1827,  - "I  caniiot  help  laughing  at  the  Eesthetic.el  folks  who  torment 

themselves  in  endeavoring,  by  some  abstract  words,  to  reduce  to  a conception 

(5)  Arthtrr  Symons,  "The  Symbolist  Movement,"  Intro  1. 

(4)  Babbitt, "Rons seau  and  Romanticism,"  Chapter  VIII,  £93. 

(3)  Babbitt, "Rons seau  and  Romanticism,"  Chapter  VIII,  293. 

(2)  Heine,  "The  Romantic  School,"  57. 

(1)  Arthur  Symons,  "the  Symbolist  Movement,"  Chapter  XI,  202. 


33 

that  inexpressible  thing  to  which  v/e  give  the  name  beauty.  Beauty  is  a 
primeval  phenomenon,  which  itself  never  maices  its  appearance,  but  the  reflec- 
tion of  which  is  visible  in  a thousand  different  utterances  of  the  creative 

(1) 

mind,  and  is  as  various  as  natiare  herself.” 

But  the  romantic  tendency  to  reach  infinity  through  symbols,  to  acquire 
a limitless  ideal  within  limits  and  to  express  that  ideal  in  understandable 
terms,  led  to  an  interesting  variety  of  romantic  maladies,  fruitless  efforts 
and  decadent  tendencies  in  literary  expression.  Zola  has  defined  art  as 
"nature  seen  through  a temperment,”  - and  with  him,  as  well  as  many  others, 
romantic  art,  as  they  themselves  depict  it,  is  nature  seen  through  a formula; 
and  often  times  the  formula  is  inapt  and  exaggerated.  Let  anyone  see  the 
Virgin  as  a I-:ystical  Rose,  a Tower  of  Ivory,  or  the  Gate  of  Heaven,  - but  the 
straightforward  thinker  prefers  to  think  of  her  in  less  Idealised  terms,  - or 
if  in  idealized  terms  at  all,  those  more  consistent  with  truth  end  life.  The 
romantic  tendency  toward  symbolism  under  such  imaginations  as  Shelley's,  Byroiis 
Chateaubriand's,  Poe's,  - underwent  various  degrees  of  subjectivity,  random 
depictions  of  ideals,  and  efforts  toward  indefinite  attainments. 

Professor  Babbitt,  in  his  discussion  of  romantic  love  uses  the  term 
"nyrapholepsy”  to  cover  the  whole  romantic  tendency  in  the  direction  of  the  love 
ideal.  I shall  treat,  under  that  term,  of  the  phase  of  romanticism  which  was 
characterized,  - not  by  the  yearning  of  the  romanticist  for  his  ideal  mate,  - 
but  his  longing  after  the  ideal  which  was  symbolic  of  more  than  the  passion- 
ately regarded  love.  The  romanticist,  "in  love  with  love”  dreamed  of  a “soul's 
sweet  sister,”  w ho  was  more  than  an  objective  ideal.  She  was  a part  of 
himself.  She  was  that  symbolic  representation  of  the  infinite  which  had  a 
distinct  kinship  with  his  own  dream-spirit.  With  his  intellect  and  heart  she 
formed  a trinity.  Out  of  the  material  of  fancy,  by  means  of  reverie  and 
imagination,  he  fashioned  her,  an  elusive,  flitting,  aery,  dream-creature,  who 
(1)  Oliver  Elton,  "A  Survey  of  English  Literature,”  Vol.  I,  Chapter  1,  18. 


v'  . , ■ *"  ..  / , ■ .S' 

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«> 


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34 

seemed  ever  to  lead  him  on  into  visions,  - 

”Two  starry  eyes,  himg  in  the  gloom  of  thought. 

And  seemed  viith  their  serene  and  azure  smiles 

(1) 

To  heckon  him.” 

There  was  much  about  this  nympho lepsey  which  was  sensuous,  much  that 
was  ideally  beautiful,  - and  much  that  seems  like  a jargon  of  indistinct  vis- 
ions, selfish  inanities,  and  random  enthusiasms.  There  was  the  ’’blue  flower" 
symbol  of  Kovalis  and  the  early  Grerman  school  of  romanticists,-  wMch  mingled 
the  love  of  some  woman  with  the  idealized  spirit  of  her,  as  a sort  of  earthly 
mixture  of  realism  and  ideality,  and  which  makes  Babbitt  observe  that  Novalis,- 
had  his  Sophia  lived  and  had  he  married  her,-  would  have  survived  his  infatua- 
tion. But  such  was  the  nature  of  this  nympholepsy  in  other  cases, that  had  he 
seen  his  ideal  fade  tqpon  its  mortal  incarnation  he  would  have  done  as  Shelley 
did,  perhaps,  transfer  his  worship  to  other  subjects,-  in  as  rapid  succession 
as  they  each  become  too  real.  For  the  symbolic  ideal  had  to  be  remote  to  be 
an  ideal.  Here  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  romanticist  seemed  rather 
to  seek  an  earthly  symbolization  of  some  inner,  spiritual  ideal,  than  to  create 
an  ideal  out  of  the  ordinary  and  commonplace.  Shelley  says  in  a letter  to 
Grisborne,  referring  to  "Epipsychidion'-  and  its  rolation  to  himself,-  "I  think 
one  is  always  in  love  with  something  or  other;  the  error,  and  I confess  it  is 

not  easy  for  spirits  cased  in  flesh  and  blood  to  avoid  it,  consists  in  seeking 

(2) 

in  a mortal  image  the  likeness  of  what  is,  perhaps,  eternal."  And  if  anyone 

could  speak  upon  such  a subject  Shelley  could,  considering  the  number  of  his 

experiences.  Ii  this  rospoct  tho  Italians  Dante,  Boccaccio,  and  Petrarch  each 

remined  true  to  his  ideal;  but  they  remained  true  to  tiis^sse  iaeals  because 

(DShelley, "Alas tor,"  Shelley*s  Poems,  Cambridge  Edition,  40U.  489  ff. 
(E)Shelley,  "Epipsychidion"  Shelley's  Poems,  Cambridge  Edition,  E98. 


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from  the  natiire  of  society  or  the  '^ideals*'  themselves,  they  did  not  success- 
fully become  incarnated. 

•'All  love,"  philosophizes  Arthur  Symons,  "is  an  attempt  to  break:  tlirough 
the  loneliness  of  individuality,  to  fuse  oneself  v/ith  something  not  oneself, 
to  give  and  to  receive  in  all  the  warmth  of  natural  desire  that  inmortal  ele- 
ment which  remains  so  cold  and  so  invincible,  in  .'the  midst  of  the  soul.  It  is 
a desire  of  the  infinite  in  humanity,  and  as  humanity  has  its  limits  it  can 
but  return  sadly  upon  itself  when  tliat  limit  is  reached.  Thus  human  love  is 

not  only  an  ecstacy  but  a despair,  and  the  more  profound  a despair  the  more 

(1) 

ardently  it  is  returned,"  And  if  there  is  actually  a certain  sense  of  insuf- 
ficiency in  romantic  love,  it  is  perhaps  tiie  natural  romantic  tendency  to  lint 
that  love  with  the  Infinite  and  to  try  to  find  a satisfaction  in  imagining 
what  cannot  be, 

"But  the  love  of  G-od,  considered  only  from  its  human  aspect  contains  at 

least  the  illusion  of  infinity.  To  love  God  is  to  live  in  the  absolute,  so 

far  as  the  mind  of  man  can  conceive  the  absolute,  and  thus,  in  a sense,  to  love 

God  is  to  possess  the  absolute,  for  love  has  already  possessed  that  which  it 

apprehends.  'cTliat  the  earthly  lover  realises  to  himself  as  the  image  of  his 

beloved  is,  after  all,  his  own  image  of  love,  not  her,-  God  must  remain  "deus 

abscond! tus,"  even  to  love;  but  the  lover,  incapable  of  possessing  infinity, 

will  have  possessed  all  of  infinity  of  which  he  is  capable.  And  Ms  ecstacy 

(2) 

will  be  flawless  until  Ms  love  becomes  too  hunan,  when  like  Don  Juan  he  will 
search  for  another,  Shelley  expresses  it,- 

"I  cannot  give  what  men  call  love. 

But  wilt  thou  accept  not 
The  worship  the  heart  lifts  above 
And  the  Heavens  reject  not, 

(1)  Arthvir  Symons,  "Theb  Symbolist  Movement,"  Chapter  XII,  : 14 

(2)  (Arthur  Symons,  "The  Sjmibolist  Movement,"  Ciiapter  XII,  2PA 


'^^i©.xaa^'  -i 

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36 

The  desire  of  the  moth  for  the  star. 

Of  the  night  for  the  morrow. 

The  devotion  of  something  afar 

(1) 

From  the  sphere  of  sorrow. 

As  to  the  more  personal,  more  sensuous  phase  of  this  symbolic,  spirit- 
invoking,  - 

- - - - "He  dreamed  a veiled  maid 

Sate  near  him,  talking  in  low  solemn  tones. 

Her  voice  was  like  the  voice  of  his  own  soul 

Heard  in  the  calm  of  thought,  its  music  long. 

Like  woven  sounds  of  streams  and  breezes,  held 

His  innermost  sense  suspended  in  its  web 

Of  many  - colored  woof  end  shifting  hues. 

Knowledge  and  truth  and  virtue  were  her  theme. 

And  lofty  hope  of  divine  liberty. 

Thoughts  the  most  dear  to  him,  and  ooesy, 

(2) 

Herself  a poet." 


She  spoke, - 

- - - - "with  voice  stifled  in  trermLous  sobs 

A 

Subdued  by  its  own  pathos;" 

Her  hands, "sweeping  from  some  strange  harp,  strange  symphoiiy."  Y/ith  her  sinu- 
ous veil,  out  - spread  arms,  dark  locks,  "beam  bending  eyes,"  and  parted  lips, 
slight  wonder  that,- 

"His  strong  heart  sunk  and  sickened  with 
excess  of  love." 

Then  ^ust  as  she  reluctantly  yielded,  and  with  a "short  breathless  cry"  folded 
his  frame  in  her  dissolving  arras, 

(1)  Shelley,  "Shelley’s  Poems,"  Carabribge  Mition,  408 

(2)  Shelley,  "Alastor,”  "Shelley’s  Poems,'"  Cambridge  Edition,  p.  35,  1.  151  ff. 


■ 'f  tfe:- 

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37 

- - - *'blaclcness  veiled  Ms  dizzy  eye,  and  might 
Involved  and  swallowed  up  the  vision." 

and, 

- - - Lost,  lost,  forever  lost 

In  the  wide  partless  desert  of  dim  sleep. 

That  beautiful  shapej" 

A puff  of  pure  morning  breeze  and  she  is  gone,  and  the  dreamer  ie  left  more 
alone  than  as  if  he  had  not  dreamed,  and  he  is  left,  too,  more  dissatisfied 
with  reality. 

Bach  of  just  such  expressions  was  the  romantic  spirit  wMcn  led  to  Shell- 
ey’s free  love  experiences.  After  admiring  a half  dozen  "sweet  spirits"  who 
turned  out  to  be  quite  ordinary  mortals,  he  spent  a season  condeianing  them  as 
he  did  Elizabeth  Kitchener,  and  then  wrote  about  what  might  have  been  an  ideal 
experience.  He  spoke  of  her  who  had  been  the" sister  of  Ms  soul",  in  writing 

to  his  friend  Hogg  as,  "the  Brown  Bemonv  as  v/e  call  our  late  tormenter  and 
(1-) 

school-mistress."  - 

Epipsychidion,  which  Shelley  Mmself  spoke  of  as  an  "idealized  history" 
of  his  own  spirit,  was.* inspired  by  Emilia  Yiviani,  of  the  convent  of  St.  Anna, 
Pisa.  He  starts  with  a whole  train  of  epithets. 

"High,  spirit  winged  Heart  I who  dost  forever 
Beat  thine  unfeeling  bars  with  vain  endeavor. 

Till  those  bright  plumes  of  thought,  in  Thich  arrayed 
It  over-soared  this  low  and  worldly  shade. 

Lie  s'nattered;  and  thy  panting  wounded  breast 
Stains  with  dear  blood  its  unmsternal  nesti 
I weep  vain  tears,  blood  would  less  bitter  be, 

(2) 

Yet  poured  forth  gladlier,  could  it  profit  thee." 

(2)  Shelley,  "Epipsychidion,"  (Shelley's  Poems,  Gaibbridge  Edition)  229,  G.  13  ff 
(1)  Paul  Elmer  More, "Shelburne  Essays,"  (Seventh  Series)  Chaxuter  I,  16. 


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38 

He  continues,  after  offering  himself  for  her  release,  if  that  could  be 
possible,  - 

“Seraph  of  Heavenl  too  gentle  to  be  human, 

Veiling  beneath  that  radiant  form  of  Woman 
Of  light,  and  love,  and  immortalityl 
Sweet  benediction  in  the  eternal  Cursel 
Veiled  glory  of  this  lan^jless  Universe  I 
2hou  Moon  beyond  the  eloudsl  thou  living  Form 
Among  the  Deadl  thou  star  above  the  storral 
Thou  Wonder,  and  thou  Beauty,  and  thou  Terror! 

Thou  Harmony  of  nature’s  Art!  thou  Mirror 
In  whom,  as  in  the  sulendor  of  the  Sun, 

(1) 

All  shapes  loolc  glorious  which  thou  gszest  on!” 

She  is,  as  a woman,  a symbol  of  eve ly thing  of  beauty  in  Heaven  or  in 
earth.  As  a soul  she  is  everything  which  the  poet  in  his  gush  of  passion 
can  recall,  - 

“Sweet  Lamp,  my  moth-liice  Miise  has  burned  its  wings; 

Or,  like  a dying  swan  who  soars  and  sings, 

Yoiing  Love  should  teach  Tine,  in  his  own  gray  style. 

All  that  tiiou  art.  Art.,  thou  not  void  of  guile, 

A lovely  aoul  formed  to  be  blessed  and  bless? 

A well  of  sealed  and  secret  haijpiness. 

Whose  waters  like  blithe  light  and  music  are. 

Vanquishing  dissonance  and  gloom?  a star 
V/hich  moves  not  in  the  moving  Heavens,  alone? 

A smile  amid  dark  frovms?  a gentle  tone 
Amid  rude  voices?  a beloved  light? 

A solitude,  a refuge,  a delight? 

(1)  Shelley,  Epipsychidloi^"  (Shelley’s  Poems,  Csmbridge  Edition)  P99,  0.21  ff 


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39 

’*A  lute,  -which  those  whom  love  has  taught  to  play 

MaJ£e  music  on,  to  soothe  the  roughest  day 

And  lull  fond  grief  asleep?  a buried  treasure? 

A cradle  of  young  thoughts  of  wingless  pleasure? 

A violet-shrouded  grave  of  -V70e?  - I measure 

The  world  of  fancies,  seelcing  one  lilce  thee, 

(1) 

And  find  - alasl  mine  own  infirmity,” 

She  is  the  S5nmbol  of  eternity,  - 

"See  where  she  stands I a mortal  shape  indued 

With  love  and  life  and  light  and  deity. 

And  motion  which  may  change  but  cannot  die; 

(2) 

And  image  of  some  bright  Eternity.” 

With  the  love  for  this  ideal  goes  a pastoral  longing,  the  desire  for  an 

ideal  existence  in  some  "far  Eden  of  the  purple  East.”  It  is  a place  of,  - 

glades,  caverns,  and  bowers  and  Iialls 

Built  round  v/ith  ivy,  v;hich  the  waterfalls 

Illumining,  -with  sound  that  never  falls 

Acconpaning  the  noonday  nightingales;” 

Even  nature,  herself,  softens  her  mood,  and,  - 

"The  winged  storms,  clianting  their  thunder-psalm 

To  other  lands,  leave  azure  chasms  of  calm 

Over  this  isle,  or  weep  themselves  in  dew. 

Prom  wliich  its  fields  and  -^.-oods  ever  renew 

(d) 

Their  green  and  golden  Immortality.” 

But  his  love  for  her  has  that  quality  of  a yearning  for  his  o-wn  ideal 
soul.  This  "soul  out  of  my  soul,”  is  the  part  of  aimself  he  would  be  spirit- 

(4)  Shei-ley,  "Epipsychidion,”  (Shelley’s  Poems,  Cambridge  Edition)305, 0.465  ff 

(3)  Shelley,  "Epipsy.chidion,”  (Shelley’s  Poems,  Cambridge  Edit! on) 304,0 ,401  ff 

(2)  Shelley,  ’’lipipsychidion,”  (Shelley’s  Poems,  Cambridge  Edit  ion) 300,0.112  ff 

(1)  Shelley,  ’’Epipsychidion,”  (Shelley’s  Poems,  Cambridge  Edition) 299,0.  52  ff 


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ually,  could  he  acquire  a portion  of  ^flifinite  goodness  and  heauty;  - 

”Ah  me  I 


I am  not  thine  - I am  a part  of  thee*’* 


(1) 


He  says. 


”We  shall  "become  the  same,  we  shall  be  one 
Spirit  within  two  frames,  ohX  wherefore  two? 

One  passion  in  twin-hearts,  which  grows  and  grew. 

Till  lilce  two  meteors  of  expanding  flame 
Those  spheres  instinct  with  it  become  the  same, 
loiio  Touch, , mingle,  are  transfigured;*’ 

This  sense  of  "one-ness”  with  the  ideal,  with  its  consequent  blending  of 

self  with  a symbolic  representation  of  the  Infinite,  developed  into  t-ie  desire 

for  annihilation.  Love  enthusiasra,- 

- - - - ’’ever  still 

Burning,  yet  ever  inconsumable; 

In  one  another’s  substance  finding  food, 

Lilce  flames  too  pure  and  light  and  unimbued 

To  nourish  their  bright  lives  with  baser  prey, 

(2) 

dliich  point  to  Heaven  and  cannot  pass  away;** 
led  to  a desire  for  existence  outside  the  mortal,  a desire  to  plunge  into  an 
abyssD  of  ecstacy.  The  romanticist  could  "throw  himself  beneath  the  wheels  of 
a cosmic  Juggernaut,"  He  longed  to  suffer  the  exquisite  pleasure  of  complete 
extinction, - 

"One  hope  within  two  wills,  one  v?ill  beneath 
Two  overshadowing  minds,  one  life,  one  death. 

One  Heaven,  one  Hell,  one  immortality. 

And  one  annihilation,  tv'oe  is  raei 


(2)  Shelley, "Epipsychidion, " Shelley,  Poems,  Cambridge  Edition,  306,  1 578ff, 
(1)  Shelley,  "Epipsychidion,"  Shelley,  Poems,  Cambridge  Edition,  299,  1.  51, 


V'V*  '"'i'  ^'-  t - «4i^iv 

i.&  'i  I .'^  *.  . 


■ ',-y  • 

„ ' ■ ■ 1' 

’ ^•■'  ' ‘3P  ' ■ '■*  ■, 

- axEiuj*  i-' : 

. ' 'v/' 


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->’-3  M ■wi*i4_<  A/.  ^ *■■'-*  *-  • ft  Ij.^L’.  * _ ajhC^B  MtviUA^^B  JII 


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^ ■ y.’V^  > ••  “ ^ ^t»i*Taj^Uirn  Uvi  /, 


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"•.x  A.'v  »,iL.'.‘ tf*.  .sJi’  M . ■•  ..  ..  'Xi.  a..'!ii  ' 


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41 


v;inged  v;ords  on  V7hich  my  soul  ??ould  pierce 

Into  the  bright  of  love’s  rare  universe. 

Are  chains  of  lead  around  its  flight  of  fire, 

(1) 

I pant,  I sink,  I tremble,  I expire]" 

Romantic  symbolism,  the  whole  tendency  to  represent  nature,  art,  life 
itself  in  symbols,  was  an  attempt  at  unifying  enthusiasm  in  the  direction  of 
infinity.  Man  had  to  have  something  toward  which  to  endeavor,  something  rep- 
resentative of  his  ideal  of  intellect,  of  love,  and  of  religion.  It  was  the 
effort  to  make  over  the  intangible  into  human  language.  As  the  word  was  the 
symbol  of  the  thought  life,  so  natpre  became  symbolic  of  God,  the  visionary 
dream-woman  became  symbolic  of  love,  mind,  or  soul,  and  a multitudinous  number 
of  romantic  representations  were  created  as  symbols  of  various  forms  of  art. 

"the  Earth  and  Ocean  seem 

To  sleep  in  one  another’s  arms,  and  dream 

Of  waves,  flowers,  clouds,  woods,  rocks,  and  all  that  v/e 

(2) 

Read  in  their  smiles,  and  call  reality." 

The  unreality  of  the  attempt  in  England  is  contrasted  with  the  opposite  result 
of  the  same  tendency,-  in  realism  and  naturalism,-  in  Frsnce.  The  spirit,  one 
of  almost  childish  endeavor  to  represent  all  ideas  in  realizable  terms,  coupled 
with  the  kindred  spirit  of  effort  to  realize  those  terms  other  than  by  mere 
conception,  led  to  romantic  hope  and  enthusiasm,-  that  dynamic  romantic  tenden- 
cy tov;ard  diffuse  effort,  hectic  religion,  and  catachysmic  revolution. 

(2)  Shelley,  "Spipsychidion,’"Shelley* s Poems,  Cambridge  Edition,  305  1.  508  ff. 
(1)  Shelley,  "Epipsychidion, "Shelley’ s Poems,  Cambridge  Edition,  306  1.  584  ff. 


-ijf<f',A-  *-'.;4  'i‘  ,5fta  ■ »£i}^a  t[»  t>ca * « aT;  W*a»Jl^?<wst**i«  » 

*»«*(.  ?■-  f.  *■■•■  .■  I ‘ ,N>«tSr.  ■■  v^. 


fi 


^ '■  f ^ ’>%;:■  .(r* ' ^5. 

. r,^'  ».‘W;,iv’  L.  •■i‘‘:  '■■  - ‘^'  •■  'Vv#iwi|jrj  '■ '-W  •;«, 


42 


CHAPTER  IV 

R OiaiTTI  C EITTHUS I ASM 

The  romanticist,  after  the  dreamy  inactivity  of  reverie,  and  the  purely 
imaginative  activity  connected  with  the  tendency  toward  symbolism,  indulged 
his  emotions  in  enthusiasm,  Enthusiasm  was  that  subjective  force  of  romanti- 
cism which  carried  the  poet  toward  his  ideal,  the  ideal  dreamed  of  in  solitude, 
and  was  a sort  of  emotional  overflow.  In  the  more  passive  poet  it  led  to 
lyrical  expression  of  love,  liberty,  religion;  in  the  active  individual,  exper- 
iments in  free  love,  travel  and  adventure,  and  efforts  at  political  and  reli- 
gious upheaval.  It  was  the  romanticist's  active  effort  to  carry  himself,  and 
oftentimes,  as  vath  Shelley,  his  whole  nation,  toward  an  infinite  ideal  which 
human  nature  had  never  as  yet  attained, 

"To  do  anything,”  says  Hazlitt,  ”to  dig  a hole  in  the  ground,  to  plant  a 
cabbage,  to  hit  a mark,  to  move  a shuttle,  to  work  a pattern,-  in  a word  to 
attempt  to  produce  any  effect,  and  to  succeed,  has  something  in  it  that  grati- 
fies the  power  of  love,  and  carries  off  the  restless  activity  of  the  mind  of 
(1) 

man,” 

It  was  just  this” restless  activity  of  the  mind  of  man”  which  the  pseudo- 

classicist  had  suppressed.  The  terra  ”enthusiast”  v/as  in  that  period  a terra  of 

opprobrium.  Reverend  Hicholas  Garter  wrote  to  his  daughter  Slizaoeth,  the 

learned  translator  of  Epictetus  J ”You  seem  extremely  fond  of  her  - lirs, 

Rowe’s  — writings,  I have  seen  some  that  have  in  them  a tincture  of  enthusiasm 

'Tis  proper  to  caution  you  not  to  read  them  with  too  much  pleasure.  Enthusiasm 

(1)  ”The  Collected  Works  of  William  Hazlitt,**  A.  H.  V/aller,  Vol.YII,  ''Table 
Talk,””On  the  PleasureN.  of  Painting,"  11 


i 


k 


t 


a>. 


- J > - 1 V 


xC 


",  d 


<•>*  7 . * X 0 V 


>:»C-  rv, 


T 


0;,..r  X 


Cl.  J 


J 


»» 


f 


I, 


I 


V. 


I 


?.l 


(1) 

grows  upon  us  insensibly.”  Dr.  Johnson  said  of  Dr.  Joseph  w'arton,”Sir , he  is 

(2) 

an  enthusiast  by  rule.”  In  the  distrust  of  free  emotion  lay  the  strength  of 
the  time,-  but  here  too  lay  the  cause  of  its  limitation,  for  “this  dread  of  en- 

j 

thusiasm  cut  off  the  great  inspiration  of  the  pseudo-classic  ago,  as  well  as 

^3) 

its  disturbing  passions.”  Even  those  who  were  bringing  bawjk  the  force  of  the 

term  repudiated  it;  so  John  Wesley  cries  out,  ”the  reproach  of  Christ  I am  will- 

14) 

ing  to  bear,  but  not  the  reproach  of  enthusiasm.”  But  it  is  a long  step  be- 
tween the  warning  of  Dr.  Carter  and  Shelley’s  bold  declaration  of  purpose  in 
the  preface  to  ”!Ehe  Bevolt  of  Islam,"-  that  he  wrote  it,-  "in  the  view  of 
kindling  within  the  bosoms  of  my  readers  a virtuous  enthusiasm  for  those  doc- 
trines of  liberty  and  justice,  that  faith  and  hope  in  something  good,  which 

neither  violence,  nor  misrepresentation,  nor  prejudice  can  ever  totally  extin- 

(5) 

guish  among  mankind,” 

Plato  recognizes  the  place  of  activity  in  man’s  attainment  of  his  highest, 
not  throxjgh  enjoyment,  but  through  the  exercise  of  nis  active  energies.  But 
undoubtedly,  as  Chatles  3akev;ell  points  out  in  his  "Philosophy  of  Goethe’s  PauBt 
there  are  different  varieties  of  such  activity,  "There  are  those  whose  lives 
are  guided  by  a perfectly  clear  aim,  to  which  every  action  and  event,  every 
good,  and  every  evil  is  strictly  subordinate,  and  who  bind  themselves  to  enjoy- 
ment only  that  they  may  be  the  better  able  to  struggle  toward  the  end  they  have 
in  view."  And  then  there  are  those  "who  have  just  aim  enough  to  keep  themselves 
out  of  the  grave,  who  are  continually  losing  sight  of  that  aim  in  transient, 
momentary,  sporadic  interests;  who  instead  of  going  Straight  to  life*s  journey 
sleep  and  rest  only  where  they  must,  loiter  all  the  way,  pluck  flowers  by  the 

(5)  Shelley,  "Complete  Poetical  Works,”  Cambridge  Edition,  Preface,  "The  Revolt 
of  Islam,"  45 

(4)  Paul  Elmer  More,  "Shelburne  Essays,”  Seventh  Series,  Chapter  I,  Shelley,  12 
(3)  Paul  Elmer  More,  "Shelburne  Essays,”  Seventh  Series,  Chapter  I,  Shelley,  12 
(2)  Bosv/ell,  "Life  of  Johnson,"  Vol.II,  Edition  1887  p,  33;  Vol.iy  note,  41 
(1)  Paul  Elmer  More,  "Shelburne  Essays,"  Seventh  Series,  Chapter  I,  Shelley,  12 


'■i 


i 


u 


■'J 


4 


J X 1'.’  t V' _ -^T 

« ; ^ J «r>j  X 

V > r . ; jjffj 

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. 'iO  . 1.  Z ff  : y.Cl  7ri 
J0VS‘Z  Oc  . £•■  *:0'^»’i  u:'.^- 

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I.- . V 

£’.  i ,‘Z  crAlT 

. _rti  v,o^Vi.  .‘w. ^c.. 

: I:*  ..  , i:  : jjjoh-i:: 

ji. . . .>'.1:1,  . ua  0T9r‘i' 

....  : -'i'.:  „ joei.1  • j*s., 

:2  A ■.  ,:vi  *.i  ^J^crr;-. 

- '.  J.  ,J  w — ..  W ^ t . 

&■•*  •.  .i  ^ . » V ,7i. 

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44 


wayside,  making  little  excursions  into  fields  and  woods  and  dallying  wherever 

(1) 

opportunity  offers.  To  the  first  class  belong  all  great  men,  so  he  thinks,  and 
to  the  second,  all  dilettanti : the  former  tendency  toward  activity  produces 
classic  art;  the  latter  produces  romantic  art. 

The  meaning  of  this  word  enthusiasm  indicates  a sort  of  ’’divine  madness 
or  frenzy,”  As  applied  in  contempt  it  meant  ’’possessed  by  .3  god,”  but  by  a 
god  who  brought  about  rather  questionable  activities,  which  v.-ere  against  ell 
reason  and  restraint,  Plato's  four  kinds  of  enthusiacm,-  the  prophetic  glow 
of  revelation,  prevailing  prayer  which  averts  the  wrath  of  heaven,  that  philos- 
ophy which  miawares,  enters  into  the  lover  from  his  love,-  v/ere  all  phrases  em- 
braced by  the  romanticist  in  varying  degrees  of  intensity,  ”jiach  of  these 

stimuli  may  so  exalt  the  inward  faculties, "comments  John  Morley,  "as  to  make  a 

(2) 

man, -’bereft  of  reason  but  filled  with  divinity,"  And,  "You,  sir,  who  are  a 

poet,”  once  said  IJadarae  d'  Bpinay  to  Saint  Lambert,”  will  agree  with  me  that 

the  existence  of  a Being,  eternal,  all  powerful,  and  of  sovereign  intellect, 

(3) 

is  at  any  rate  the  germ  of  the-  first  enthusiasm.  The  term  whicn  was  applied 
in  the  pseudo-classic  age  as  one  of  approbrium,  was  adopted  by  the  romanticist 
to  characterize  his  most  sublime  emotion.  Enthusiasm  to  him  meant  "inspiration 
it  was  a sentiment  which  represented  a certain  element  of  the  expansive  infinit( 
in  man, 

Madame  de  Stael  ejip)resses  the  idea  in  the  chapter  of  "Ehthusiasm"  in  her 
"Germany,”  "E&ny  people  are  prejudiced  against  Enthusiasm;  they  confound  it 
with  Fanaticism,  which  is  a great  mistake.  Fanaticism  is  an  exclusive  passion, 
the  object  of  which  is  an  opinion;  enthusiasm  is  connected  with  the  hsrmony  of 
the  universe:  it  is  the  love  of  the  beautiful,  elevation  of  soul,  enjoyment  of 

(3)  John  iilorley,  "Rotisseau,”  Chapter  IX,  316 

(2)  John  liorley,  "English  Men  of  Letters,”  "Wordsworth,”  by  F,  W,  H.  I^ers,  128 
(1)  Charles  Bakewell,  "The  Philosophy  of  Goethete  Faust,”  Chapter  IV,  69 


n 


'4'b  

devotion,  all  united  in  one  single  feeling  which  combines  grandeur  and  repose* 

The  sense  of  this  word  among  the  Greelcs  affords  the  noblest  definition  of  it* 

(1) 

enthusiasm  signifies  ’God  in  us.»*» 

To  Longinus  enthusiasm  meant  much  the  same,  perhaps,  as  it  did  to  the  earlj 

critics  of  the  extravagancies  toward  which  the  tendency  tended;  for  in  his 

treatise  on  the  Sublime  he  condemns  random  contemporary  efforts  under  the  terra 

"Bombast.”  He  takes  from  conten^orary  literature  such  eapreSsions  as,  "Torrents 

wrapt  t^)  in  flames:  Belching  in  the  face  of  Heaven;”-  Georgias'  allusion  to 

Xerses  as  the  Jove  of  the  Persians,  and  the  allusion  to  vultures  as  "animated 

Sepulchres,"-  in  which  he  says  the  authors  "in  certain  places  cannot  so  nroner- 

ly  be  said  to  rise  as  to  fly  out  of  sight,”  - - - "But  in  ray  opinion  there  is 

not  among  them  all  one  so  overswoll'n  and  big  as  Clistarcus,  That  man,  I vow 

to  God,  is  mere  froth  and  outside.  - - - Those  authors  imagine  sometimes.  That 

they  are  inspired  and  possesst  with  Divine  Raptures,  instead  of  Thund's  ring, 

(2) 

as  they  suppose,  they  trifle  most  egregiously  and  are  childishly  ridiculous." 
Then  he  says,"Theodorus  calls  that  an  unseasonable  Hage,  when  a man  heats  him- 
self nothing  to  the  purpose,  or  when  he's  transported  to  Excess,  tho’  the  sub- 

(3) 

ject  admits  but  of  a moderate  warmth." 

In  contrast  to  the  restraint  of  the  seventeenth  century  when  human  nature 

was  not  to  be  trusted,  the  representative  of  the  romantic  period  had  a certain 

faith  in  man's  ability  to  regulate  his  own  emotions.  He  thirsted  for  experienc< 

Mr,  Babbitt  quotes  Galsworthy  as  referring  to  "the  aching  for  the  wild,  the 

{^) 

passionate,  the  new  that  never  quite  dies  in  a man's  heart,"  "Men  naturally 

knov/  no  good,"  said  Jeremy  Taylor,  voicing  the  constant  opinion  of  his  age," 

(5) 

but  to  please  a wild,  indetermined  appetite," 

(5j  Paul  Elmer  Ik>re,  "Shelburne  Essays,"  Seventh  Series,  Ghepter,  "Shelley,"  11 

(4|  Babbitt,.  "Rousseau  and  Romanticism,"  Chapter  VII,  .<151 

(3)  "Works  of  Dionysius  Longinus,"  Welsted,  ed.  171?,  9 

{£'  "Y/orks  of  Dionysius  Longinus,"  Welsted,  ed,  171?,  8 

(l)  Lladame  de  Stael,  "Germany,"  Vol.  II,  Chapter  X,  360 


9 


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46 

But  gradually  there  developed  along  with  the  fear  of  undirciplined  nature, 

comments  Paul  Elmer  More,  "a  belief  in  the  efficacy  and  virtue  of  certain 

supernatural  emotions,  in  an  infinite  appetite  that  v;as  not  wild  end  indeter- 

(1) 

rained  - in  enthxisiasm*”  Shelley  says, 

"Man  is  a soul  and  body,  formed  for  deeds 

of  high  resolve,  on  fancy's  boldest  wing 

(2) 

To  soar  unwearied,"  - - - 

So  the  Enthusiast  proudly  adopted  this  term  as  a cognomen  in5)lying  his 

owm  exclusive  powers  of  commimication  with  spiritual  forces,  through  solitude 

and  reverie.  Under  such  a conviction  Joseph  Warton  wrote  his  "Enthusiast"  and 

in  it  alludes  to  the  power  of  Contemplation, - 

"To  lift  ray  soul  above  this  little  earth. 

This  folly  - fettered  world:  to  purge  ray  ears. 

That  I may  heat  the  rolling  planets'  song, 

(3) 

And  tuneful  turning  spheres;" 

Shelley,  too  in  seasons  of  enthusiasm,  saw  the  universe  from  an  aloof  point  of 
view  which,  perhaps,  justifies  a critic  of  an  early  edition  of  his  ooeras,  com- 
paring him  to  Milton.  The  universe  itself  was  a massive  errangeraent  of  hrrmon- 
ious  activities. 

Throughout  those  infinite  orbs  of  mingling  light. 

Of  which  yon  earth  is  one,  is  wide  diffused 
A spirit  of  activity  and  life. 

That  Icnows  no  terra,  cessation,  or  decay; 

But  active,  steadfast,  and  eternal,  atill 

Guides  the  fierce  whirlwind,  in  the  tenpest  roars, 

(3)  Joseph  Warton,  "The  Enthusiast,"  Bernbaura, "English  Poets  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century,  158 

(2)  Shelley,  "Gonplete  Poetical  Works,"  Cambridge  Edition,  "Queen  Mab,"14 
(1)  Paul  Elmer  More,  "Shelburne  Essays,"  Seventh  Series,  Chapter  "Shelley,"  11 


47 


And  in  the  storm  of  change,  that  ceaselessly 

Bolls  round  the  eternal  universe,  and  siiaices 

(1) 

Its  undecaying  battlements,  presides,** 

And  again,  he  says,- 

Por  birth,  and  life,  and  death,  and  tiiat  strange  state 

Before  the  nakied  soul  has  found  its  home. 

All  tend  to  perfect  happiness,  and  urge 

The  restless  wheels  of  being  on  their  way, 

V/hose  flashing  spokes,  instinct  with  infinite  life, 

(B) 

Bicker  and  burn  to  gain  their  destined  go^l,” 

This  enthusiasm  was  linked  with  romantic  hope,-  that  of  Thomr-s  ppmell  in 
his  of  Contentment** 

"Lovely,  lasting  peace  of  mindi 
Sweet  delight  of  human  kind. 

Heavenly  born,  and  bred  on  high. 

To  crown  the  favorites  of  the  sky 
With  more  of  happiness  below 
Than  victors  in  a triumph  knowJ 

Ambition  searches  all  its  sphere 
Of  pon^  and  state,  to  meet  thee  there. 

Increasing  Avarice  would  find 
Thy  presence  in  its  gold  enshrined. 

The  bold  adventurer  ploughs  his  way. 

Through  rocks  amidst  the  foaming  sea, 

(2)  Shelley,  ''Complete  Poetical  Works,"  Cambridge  Edition,  ’’Queen  liab,||  30 
(1)  Shelley,  "Complete  poetical  Works,"  Cambridge  Edition,  "Qu-en  Mab,'  TO 


~^'^CiU.a 


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. » 


To  gain  thy  love;  and  then  perceives 


1 


Thou  wert  not  in  the  rocks  and  waves. 

The  silent  heart  which  grief  assails, 

Treads  soft  and  lonesome  o'er  the  vales. 

Sees  daisies  open,  rivers  run. 

And  seeks,  as  Inhave  vainly  done. 

Amusing  thought:  but  learns  to  know 
That  solitude's  the  murse  of  woe. 

No  real  happiness  is  found 
In  trailing  purple  o'er  the  ground; 

Or  in  a soul  exalted  high. 

To  range  the  circuit  of  the  sky. 

Converse  with  stars  above,  and  know 
All  nature  in  its  forms  below; 

The  rest  it  seeks,  in  seeking  dies, 

(1) 

And  doubts  at  last,  for  knowledge,  rise," 
which  shows  the  romanticist  at  the  point  of  exalting  activity  ratlier  than  con- 
tentment itself  as  a goal. 

With  this  hope,  which  was  a vision  of  the  ideal  and  faith  in  the  attainment 

of  it,  went  a certain  condemnation  of  reverie, 

"But  can  the  noble  mind  forever  brood. 

The  willing  victim  of  a weary  mood. 

On  heartless  cares  that  squander  life  away. 

And  cloud  yoimg  Genius  brightening  into  dry? 

Shame  to  the  coward  thought  that  e'er  betrayed 

The  noon  of  manhood  to  a myrtle  shade] 

If  Hope's  creative  spirit  cannot  raise 

(1)  Thomas  Parnell,  "A  Hymn  of  Contentment,"  Bernbaum,  "English  Poets  of  the 
Eighteenth  Century, "85, 


One  trophy  sacred  to  thy  future  days. 

Scorn  the  dull  crowd  that  haunt  the  gloomy  shrine 
Of  hopeless  love  to  muriaiur  and  repinei 
But,  should  a sigh  of  milder  mood  esqpress 
Thy  heart  - warm  wishes,  true  to  happiness; 

Should  Heaven's  fair  harbringer  delight  to  pour 
Her  blissful  visions  on  thy  peaceful  hour, 

Ho  tear  to  blot  thy  memory's  pictured  page, 

ITo  fears  but  such  a fancy  can  assuage; 

Though  thy  wild  heart  some  hapless  hour  may  miss 
The  peaceful  tenor  of  unvaried  bliss 
(For  love  pursues  an  ever  - devious  race. 

True  to  the  winding  lineaments  of  grace ),- 
Yet  still  may  hope  her  Talisman  employ 
To  snatch  from  Heaven  anticipated  joy. 

And  all  her  hindered  energies  imnart 

(1) 

That  burn  the  brightest  in  the  poorest  heart," 

There  was  also  delight  in  the  wild  aspects  of  nature.  Chateaubriand  7;rites 

a vivid  account  of  a storm  in  the  forest,  and  exults  in  the  v^ildness  of  it, 

(2) 

"Vrnat  an  awful,  what  a magnificent  spectaclej"  he  exclaraes,  Joseph  yarton  in 

"The  Hnthusia^t"  exults  in  the  same  phenomena. - 

"Oft  near  some  crowded  city  would  1 walic. 

Listening  the  far  - off  noises,  rattling  cars. 

Loud  sliouts  of  joy,  sad  shri  s of  sorrow,  knells 

Full  slowly  tolling,  instruments  of  trade. 

Striking  my  ears  with  one  deep-swelling  hum. 

(2)  Francois  Rene  Auguste  Chateaubriand,  "Atala,"  Warner  Library,  3537 
(li  Thomas  Campbell,  "The  Pleasures  of  Hope,"  "Campbell’s  Poetical  'Works," 

Oxford  Edition,  23 


50 

Or  wajidering  near  the  sea,  attend  the  sounds 
Of  }iollo\v  winds  and  ever-heating  waves, 
iSven  when  wild  tempests  swallow  up  the  plains. 

And  Boreas’  blasts,  big  hail,  and  rains  combine 
To  shake  the  groves  and  mountains,  v;ould  ^ sit. 

Pensively  musing  on  th’  outrageous  crimes 

That  walce  Heaven’s  vengeance;  at  such  solemn  hours 

Deijmons  and  goblins  through  the  dark  air  shriek. 

While  Heca^,  with  her  black-browod  sisters  nine, 

(1) 

Rides  o’er  the  Harth,  and  scatters  woes  and  death.” 
and  again,  from  hhelley' s "'■iueea  Uab,”- 

- - -^’Tomorrow  comes: 

Cloud  upon  cloud,  in  dark  and  dee^jening  mass. 

Roll  o’er  the  blackened  waters;  the  deep  roar 
Of  distant  thunders  mutters  awfully; 

Ten5)est  unfolds  its  pinions  o’er  the  gloom 

That  siirouds  the  boiling  serge;  the  pitiless  fiend. 

With  all  his  v/inds  and  lightenings,  tracts  his  prey. 

The  torn  deep  yawns,-  the  vessel  finds  a grave 
Beneath  its  Jagged  gulf, 

AhJ  whence  yon  glare 

That  fires  the  arch  of  heaven?  that  dark  red  smoke 
Blotting  the  silver  moon? 

How  swells  the  intermingling  din,  tne  jar 

Frequent  and  frightful  of  the  bursting  bomb; 

(l)  Joseph  Warton,  ’’The  Enthusiast,”  Bern  baum,  ’’English  Poets  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century,”  157 


And  now  again  ‘tis  black,-  and  now,  the  glee 


Of  the  loud  hills  shAkea  with  its  mountain  mirth. 

As  if  they  did  rejoice  o*er  a young  earthquak^r  birth, 

^ould  I embody  and  unbosom  now 

Tliat  which  is  most  within  me,-  could  I wreak 

Lly  thoughts  upon  ex^jression,  and  thus  throw 

Soul,  heart,  mind,  passions,  feelings,  strong  or  week. 

All  that  I would  have  sought,  and  all  I seek. 

Bear,  know,  feel,  and  yet  breathe  - into  one  ’word. 

And  that  one  word  were  Lightning,  I would  speak; 

But  as  it  is,  I live  and  die  unheard, 

(1) 

With  a most  voiceless  thought,  sheathing  it  as  a sword,” 

Byron  found  expression  for  some  of  this  romantic  enthusiasm  in  wandering, 

and  Thomas  Cajipbell,  in  Popian  couplets,  extols  the  spirit, - 

‘•And  such  thy  strength- inspiring  aid  that  love 

The  hardy  Byron  to  his  native  shore. 

In  horrid  climes,  where  Clilloe*s  tempests  sweep 

Tumultous  murmurs  o*er  the  troubled  deep, 

»Twas  his  to  mourn  misfortune *s  rudest  shock. 

Scourged  by  the  winds,  and  cradled  on  the  ilock. 

To  wake  each  Joyless  mom,  and  search  again 

The  famished  haunts  of  solitary  men, 

V/hose  race,  unyielding  as  their  native  storm. 

Know  not  a trace  of  Nature  but  the  form; 

Yet,  at  thy  call,  the  hardy  ter  pursued. 

Pierced  the  deep  woods,  and,  riailing  from  afar 

(1)  Byron,  "Childe  Harold,"  Byron’s  Life  and  Works,"  (Thomas  MdSire)  Canto  III, 
XCII,  XGIII,  XCYII 


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52 

The  moon’s  pal^  planet  and  the  northern  strr. 

Paused  at  each  dreary  cry,  unheard  >efore. 

Hyenas  in  the  v/ild,  and  mermaids  on  the  shore; 

Till,  led  by  thee  o’er  many  a cliff  sublime. 

He  found  a warmer  world,  a milder  clime, 

A home  to  rest,  a shelter  to  defend, 

(1) 

Peace  and  repose,  a Briton  and  a friendl” 

Then  there  is  the  enthusiasm  which  came  from  the  liberty  of  passion,  when 
the  romanticist  rode  into  the  Sublime  upon  ”the  seraph-wings  of  .staoy.**  it 
is  interesting  to  note  how  closely  allied  were  the  romanticist’s  passions  and 
arau$ing  strains  of  rausic- 

’’HarSl  his  hands  the  lyre  explore; 

Bright -eyed  Fancy  hovering  o’er. 

Scatters  from  her  pictured  urn 

(2) 

Thoughts  that  breath  and  words  that  burn,” 

And  again, - 

The  birds  his  presence  greet; 

But  chief  the  skylark  warbles  high 

His  trembling,  thrilling  ecstacy. 

And,  lessening  from  the  dazzled  sight. 

Melts  into  air  and  liquid  light. 

Rise,  my  souli  on  the  wings  of  fire 

Rise  the  rapturous  choir  amongl 

Harki  ’tis  Hature  strikes  the  lyre, 

(3) 

And  leads  the  general  song,” 

Thomas  Warton  feels  it  penetrating  his  spirit  in  ”The  Pleasures  of  Memory,”  when 

(3)  Thomas  Gray,  "On  the  Pleasure  Arising  from  Vicissitude,"  Bernbaian,  "iSnglish 
Poets  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  196 
(2)  Thomas  Gray,  "The  Progress  of  Poesy",  Bernbaum, "English  Poets  of  the 
Eighteenth  Century,"  190 

(1)  Thomas  Caupbell,  "The  Pleasures  of  Hope,"  "Campbell’s  Poetical  Works'?" 
(Oxford  Edition)  5 


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53 

through  Gothic  vaults  ^’hollo-w  murmurs*”  reach  his  "’rsvi sher?  o'^r.” 

*’0*he  tapered  choir,  at  the  late  hour  of  prsyer. 

Oft  let  me  tread,  v.’hile  th’  according  voice 
The  many-sounding  organ  peals  on  high 
The  clear  slow-dittied  chant  or  varied  hymn. 

Till  all  ny  soul  is  hathed  in  ecstacies 
And  lapped  in  Paradise**’ (1) 

Subjectively,  there  is  a delight,  too,  in  the  harshness  of  fate,  partly 

due  to  opposite  tendencies  which  emotional  experiences  awake,  perhaps,  and  also 

due  to  the  activity  aroused  in  the  feelings  and  syn^iathies  of  man  through 

emotional  conflict.  So  Gray  says,-  ’’And  Pity,  dropping  soft  the  sadly-pleasing 

tear.  -^d  in  his  **ode  on  the  Pleasures  Arising  from  Vicissitude,”  he  says,- 

”The  hues  of  bliss  more  brightly  glow 

Chastened  by  sabler  tints  of  woe. 

And,  blended,  form  with  artful  strife 

(3) 

The  strength  and  harmony  of  life," 

The  social  sense  asserts  itself  when  the  enthusiast  lets  reason  interfere 
with  his  passions  and  love  of  solitude,  without  stirring  hir  inner  emotions. 

A little  heeding  of  reason  merely  directs  the  channel  toward  humonity,- 
"The  tyrant  passions  all  subside. 

Fear,  anger,  pity,  shame,  and  pride. 

No  more  my  bosom  move; 

(3)  Thomas  Gray, "Ode  on  the  Pleasures  ijjrising  from  Vicissitude,"  Bernbahm 
"English  Poets  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  18£  ’ 

(2)  Thomas  Gray,"Hihna  to  Adversity,"  Bernbaum, "English  Poets  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century,”  182 

(1)  Thomas  S^arton,"The  Pleasures  of  Memorv  mi:,  t 

Eighteenth  Century,"  175  Bernbaum, ”English  Poets  of  the 


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54 

ret  still  I felt,  or  seemed  to  feel 
A kind  of  visionary  zeal 
Of  universal  love.** 

iviien  ioi  a voice,  a voice  I hear] 

*Twas  Reason  whispered  in  my  ear 
These  monitory  strains: 

’V/Tiat  mean’st  thou,  man?  wouldst  thou  unbind 
The  ties  which  constitute  thy  kind. 

The  pleasures  and  the  pains? 

’The  same  Almighty  Power  unseen, 

IJho  spreads  the  gay  or  solemn  scene 
To  conten5>lations  eye. 

Fixed  every  movement  of  the  soul. 

Taught  every  wish  its  destined  goal. 

And  quickened  every  joy. 

•He  bids  the  tyrant  passions  rage. 

He  bids  them  war  eternal  v/age. 

And  combat  each  his  foe; 

Till  from  dissentions  concords  rise. 

And  beauties  from  deformities. 

And  happiness  from  woe. 

Enthusiast  go,  unstring  thy  lyre. 

In  vain  thou  sing’st  if  none  admire. 

How  sv;eet  soe*er  the  strain. 

And  is  not  thy  o' erf lowing  mind. 


55 


Unless  thou  mixes t ■with  thy  hand. 
Benevolent  in  vain? 


’Enthusiast  go,  try  every  sense. 

If  not  thy  bliss,  thy  excellence. 

Thou  yet  hast  learned  to  scan; 

At  least  thy  wants,  thy  weatoiess  laaow. 

And  see  them  all  uniting  show 

(1) 

That  man  was  made  for  man,*” 

IJadame  de  Stael  says,-”It  cannot  be  denied  that  his  own  interests,  as  an 
individual,  surround  a man  on  all  sides;  there  is  oven  in  what  is  vulgar  a 
certain  enjoyment,  of  which  many  people  are  very  susc^tible,  and  the  traces 
of  ignoble  passions  are  often  found  under  the  appearance  of  the  most  distih'* 
guished  manners,  Superior  talents  are  not  always  a guarantee  against  that  de- 
gradation of  nature  which  disposes  blindly  of  the  existence  of  men,  and  leads 
them  to  place  their  happiness  lower  than  themselves.  Enthusiasm  alone  car- 
counterbalance  the  tendency  to  selfishness;  and.  it  is  by  this  divine  sign  thrt 
we  recoghiz^s  the  creatures  of  immortality.  Uhen  you  speals  to  any  one  on  sub- 
jects worthy  of  holy  respect,  you  perceive  et  once  whether  he  feels  a noble 
trembling;  whether  he  has  formed  an  alliance  with  the  otiier  life,  or  whether 
he  has  only  that  little  portion  of  mind  which  serves  iiim  to  direct  the  mechanism 
of  existence.  And  what  then  is  human  nature  when  we  see  in  it  nothing  but  a 
prudence,  of  which  its  own  advantage  is  the  object?  The  instinct  of  animals 
is  of  more  worth,  for  it  is  sometifflos  generous  and  proud;  but  this  calculation, 

which  seems  the  attribute  of  reason,  ends  by  rendering  us  incapable  of  the  first 

12) 


of  virtues,  self  devotion.” 

This  social  sense  and  enthusiasm  for  an  ideal  of  liberty  led  to  the  over- 
throw of  authority  and  restraint.  Shelley  says  in  his  Preface  to  ''PromBtl^ 
(2)  Ikladame  de  Stael,  ”Germany,”  Yol.  II,  560 

(l)’^lliam  Whitehead,  ”The  Enthusiast,”  Bernbaum,  "English  Poets  of  the 
Mghteenth  Century,”  151 


56 

Unboimd,"  '*Lot  this  opportunity  be  conceded  to  me  of  aciaaowle(^ng  that  I have 

what  a Scotch  philosopher  characteristically  terms  a ‘passion  for  reforming 

(1) 

the  world;'**  and  Thomas  Gan5)bell  cries, - 

"YesJ  thy  proud  lords,  unpitied  landl  shall  see 
That  man  hath  yet  a soul  - and  dare  be  freel 
A little  while,  along  thy  saddened  plains. 

The  starless  night  os  desolation  reigns; 

Truth  shall  restore  the  light  by  Nature  given. 

And,  like  Pronustheus,  bring  the  fire  of  Heavenl 
Prone  to  the  dust  Oppression  shall  be  hurled. 

Her  name,  her  nature,  withered  from  the  world.* 


Tyrantsl  in  vain  ye  trace  the  wizard  ring; 

In  vain  ye  limit  Mind's  unwearied  spring; 

Y/hati  can  ye  lull  the  winged  winds  asleep. 

Arrest  the  rolling  world,  or  chain  the  deep? 

No  I -the  wild  wave  contemns  your  sceptred  hand; 

It  rolled  not  back  when  Canute  gave  commandl 

Mani  can  thy  doom  no  brighter  soul  allow? 

Still  must  thou  live  a blot  on  Nature’s  brow? 

Shall  War’s  polluted  banner  ne’er  be  furled? 

Shall  crimes  and  tyrants  cease  but  with  the  world? 

What  I are  thy  triunqphs,  sacred  Truth,  belied? 

Why  then  hath  Plato  lived  - or  Sydney  died" 

And  again  he  connects  nature  with  freedom, 

(E)  Thomas  Campbell,  "The  Pleasures  of  Hope,"  "Campbell's  Complete  Works," 
(Oxford  Edition)  15 

(l)Shelley,  Preface  to  Prometheus  Unbound,"  Shelley's  Complete  Works, " 
(Cambridge  Edition)  164 


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57 

"Eternal  Nature 1 when  thy  giant  hand 

Hath  heaved  the  floods,  and  fixed  the  trembling  land, 

When  life  sprung  startled  at  thy  plastic  call. 

Endless  her  forms,  and  man  the  lord  of  all! 

Say,  was  that  lordly  form  inspired  oy  thee 
To  wear  eternal  chains  and  bow  the  icnee? 

7/as  man  ordained  the  slave  of  man  to  toil. 

Yoked  with  the  brute,  and  fettered  to  the  soil: 

Weighed  in  a tyrant !s  balance  with  his  gold? 

Hoi-  Nature  stamped  us  in  a heavenly  mouldl 
She  bade  no  v/retch  his  t^:ankless  labour  urge, 

Kor,  trembling,  take  the  pittance  and  the  scourgel 
Ho  homeless  Libian,  on  the  stormy  deep, 

(1) 

To  call  upon  his  country’s  name,  and  weept" 

Liberty  to  numbers  of  enthusiasts  was  this  freedom  of  nature  whicn  recog- 
nized no  restraint,  and  which  extolled  the  excess  of  passion,  without  nature’s 
OYhi  restrictions.  It  was  only  slightly  connected  with  Wordsworth’s-  "The  un- 
shakled  layman’s  natural  liberty"  of  the  "Excursion,"  and  while  theoretically 
beautiful,  perhaps,  was  as  impracticable  in  a social  organization,  as  Shelley’s 
ideas  of  remaking  the  universe,  and  Godwin’s  and  Rousseau’s  plans  for  unaetting 
society, 

Balzac  demonstrated  an  interesting  phsse  of  the  spirit,  as  representative 

of  the  spirit  of  enthusiasm  in  France,  H6  was  preoccupied  with  force,’  rather 

than  any  of  its  manifestations.  He  was  interested  in"will’’  and  the  practice 

of  it.  His  joy  was  in  the  human  organism  at  its  highest  point  of  acitvity, 

(2)  Wordsworth, "The  Excursion,"  "Wordsworth’s  Con^lete  Poetical  Works," 
(Cambridge  Edition)  427 

(1)  Thomas  Campbell,  "The  Pleasures  of  Hope,"  "Campbell’s  Complete  ’Works," 
(Oxford  Edition^  17 


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58 

Men  of  will  are  rare!”  he  cries  And  at  a time  when  he  had  turned  night  into 
day  for  his  labor;’’  ”I  rise  every  night  with  a keener  will  than  that  of  yes- 
terday.   ^Nothing  wearies  me,”  he  says,  ’’neither  waiting  nor  happiness.” 

His  life  was  itself,  as  was  Sir  Vvalter  Scott’s,  a demonstration  of  enthusiasm, 
”In  all  that  he  writes  of  life,  Balzac  seeks  the  soul,  but  it  is  the  soul  as  a 
nervous  fluid,  the  executive  soul,  not  the  contemplative  soul,  thst,  with  rare 
exceptions,  he  seeks, ”(1)  The  French  Revolution  sbsorbed  a vast  enthusiasm 
which  in  England  went  into  other  channels.  Madame  de  Stael  says  of  her  France,- 
”0  Francel  land  of  glory  and  of  lovel  if  the  day  should  ever  come  when  enthu- 
siasm shall  be  extinct  upon  your  soil,  when  all  shall  be  governed  and  disposed 
upon  calctilation,  and  even  the  conten5)t  of  danger  shall  be  founded  only  upon 
the  conclusions  of  reason,  in  that  day  what  will  avail  you  the  loveliness  of 
your  climate,  the  splendor  of  your  intellect,  the  general  fertility  of  your 
nature?  Their  intellectual  activity,  and  an  impetuosity  directed  by  prudence 
and  knowledge,  may  indeed  give  your  children  the  entire  of  the  world}  but  the 
only  traces  you  will  leave  on  the  face  of  the  world  will  be  like  those  of  the 

(g) 

sandy  whirlpool,  terrible  as  the  waves,  and  sterile  as  the  desert I" 

In  religious  enthusiasm  the  romanticist  evidenced  varying  degrees  of  inten- 
sity, which  marked  this  phase  of  romanticism  one  of  tremendous  force.  The  phase 
of  the  religious  movement  which  demonstrated  romantic  enthusiasm  most  was  the 
Methodist  revival  of  the  Wesleys  and  Whitefield.  Professes  Burs  speaks  of 
romanticism,-  ”lt  was  the  effort  of  the  poetic  imagination  to  create  for  itrelf 
a richer  environment;  but  it  was  also,  in  its  deeper  significpnce,  res?ching 
out  of  the  human  spirit  after  a more  ideslmtype  of  religion  and  ethics  than  it 
could  find  in  the  official  churchraanship  and  the  formal  morality  of  tne  time,” (3; 

Methodism  was  spreading  and  increasing  the  religious  emotion  to  which  Gow- 

per  so  powerfully  though  unostentatiously  appealed;  and  "The  Task”met  these  new 

43)  Burs, "A  History  of  English  Romanticism  in  the  Eighteenth  Oentury,”  32 

(2)  iiadame  de  Stael, ’’Germany,”  Vol.  II,  376 

(1)  Symons, "The  Symbolist  Ivlovement,”  Chapter  I,  27 


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59  (1) 

needs  ■without  jarring  the  old  conventions.”  And  lliomas  Ganrphell*s  "Pleasures  of 
Hope,”  while  actually  breaking  away  from  eighteenth  century  conventions,  was 
believed  by  contemporaries  to  be  in  the  ”Pope  tradition.”  Coirpare  Pope’s, 

”Lo  the  poor  Indian,  whose  untutored  mind 

(2) 

Sees  God  in  clouds  and  hears  him  in!(the  wind.” 
with  Oampbell’s,- 

"Come,  bright  Improvement!  on  the  car  of  time. 

And  rule  the  spacious  world  from  clime  to  cl I me; 

Thy  handmaid  arts  shall  every  wild  explore 
Trace  every  wave,  and  culture  every  shore. 

Or  Erie’s  banks,  where  tigers  steal  along. 

And  the  dread  Indian  chants  a dismal  song. 

Where  human  fiends  on  midnight  errands  walk. 

And  bathe  in  brains  tiie  murderous  tomahawk- 
These  small  flocks  on  thymy  pasture  stray, 

(3) 

And  shepherds  dance  at  Summer’s  opening  day.” 

In  just  such  a way  in  Popian  guise,  came  the  romantic  religious  influence. 

Coleridge’s,-  mind  feels  as  if  it  ached  to  behold  and  know  something 

great,  something  one  and  indivisible.  And  it  is  only  in  the  faith  of  that,  th 

that  rocks  or  waterfalls,  mountains  or  caverns  give  me  the  sense  of  sublimity 
(4) 

or  majesty.”  - conpares  with  Shelley’s, 

’’Man,  one  harmonious  soul  of  many  a soul 
V.Tiose  nature  is  its  own  divine  control, 

(5) 

Where  all  things  flov/  to  all,  as  rivers  to  the  sea.” 


(5)  Shelley,  ’’Prometheus  Unbound,"  "Shelley’s  Gonplete  Poetical  Works, 
(Gambritge  Edition)  203 

(4r)  Coleridge, "Biographia  Literaria"  (J.  Shawcross)  Vol.  I. 

(3)  Thomas  Oanpbell,  "The  Pleasures  of  Hope,"  ”Ganpbell*s  Poetical  Works," 
(Oxford  Edition)  IE 
(2)  Pope,  "Essay  on  Man." 

(1)  Firederick  E.  Pierce,  "Currents  and  Eddies  in  the  English  Romantic  Geuers- 
atlon."21 


vr.i 


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i'.-:.':  --  '■•■'■*»■  37 'J’iT.j  -xoix;:  cC”  ^ ■ 

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60 

And  these  contrast  with  Y^ordsworth’ s more  calm  desire, - 

'’To  look  on  nature,  not  as  in  the  horn 

Of  thoufi’htless  youth;  but  hearing  oftentimes 

(1) 

The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity.” 

Thomas  Gray  gets  a certain  religious  ecstacy  out  of  nature,  also,  for  in  one 

of  his  letters  he  writes, "There  are  certain  scenes  that  would  awe  an  atheist 

into  belief,  without  the  help  of  other  argument.  One  need  not  have  a fantastic 

imagination  to  see  spirits  at  noonday;  you  have  Death  perpetually  before  your 

(2) 

eyes,  only  so  far  removed,  as  to  compose  your  mind  without  fighting  it." 

I^adame  de  Sta^l  says  of  the  effect  of  nature  i:^n  religious  feeling, "Is  nature 

to  be  felt  without  enthusiasm?  Gan  common  men  address  to  her  the  tale  of  their 

mean  interests  and  low  desires?  Y/hat  have  the  sea  and  stars  to  answer  to  the 

little  vanities  with  which  each  individual  is  content  to  fill  xip  each  day?  But 

if  the  soul  be  really  moved  within  us,  if  in  the  universe  it  seeks  a God,  even 

if  it  be  still  sensible  to  glory  and  to  love,  the  clouds  of  heaven  willhold 

converse  with  it,  the  torrents  will  listen  to  its  voice,  and  the  breeze  that 

passes  through  the  grove  seems  to  deign  to  whisper  to  us  something  of  those 
(3) 

we  love." 

Shaft sbury  in  his  "Letter  Concerning  Enthusiasm"  upbraids  the  more  demon- 
strative type  of  religious  enthusiast;-  "There  are  some,  it  seems,  of  our  good 
Brethren,  the  French  Protestants,  lately  come  among  us,  who  are  mightily  taken 
with  this  primitive  way.  They  have  set  a-foot  the  Spirit  of  Martyrdom  to  a 
wonder  in  their  own  Country;  and  they  long  to  be  trying  it  here,  if  we  will 
give  *em  leave,  and  afford  *em  the  Occasion:  that  is  to  say,  if  we  will  only  be 
so  obliging  as  to  break  their  bones  for  ’em,  after  their  Country  fashion;  blow 
up  their  Zeal,  and  stira- fresh  the  Coals  of  Persecution.  But  no  such  Grace  can 

(3)  Madame  de  St^el,  "Germany,"  Vol.  II,  372 

(2)  Wordsworth,  "Tinteom  Abbey,”  "Wordsworth's  Complete  Poetical  Works." 

(Cambridge  Edition)  92 
(1)  Thomas  Gray,  "Letters,"  Phelps,  97,  98 


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61 

they  hitherto  obtain  of  us.  So  hard-hearted  v;e  are,  that  notwithstanding  their 

own  Mob  are  willing  to  bestow  kind  Blov/s  i;^on  'em,  and  fairly  stone  'em  now  and 

then  in  the  open  Street:  tho  the  Priests  of  their  own  Hation  would  gladly -give 

'em  their  desir'd  Discipline,  and  are  earnest  to  light  their  probationary 

Fires  for  'em;  we  English  Men,  who  are  i5asters  in  our  own  Country,  will  not 

suffer  the  Enthusiasts  to  be  thus  us'd.  Nor  can  we  be  supposed  to  act  thus  in 

envy  to  their  Phoeniz  Sect,  which  it  seems  has  risen  out  of  the  Flames,  and 

would  willingly  grow  to  be  a new  Church  by  the  same  manner  of  Propagation  as  th 

(1) 

old  one,  whose  Seed  was  truly  said  to  be  from  the  Blood  of  the  Martyrs." 

He  goes  on  to  discuss  it,-  "Many  of  our  first  Reformers,  'tis  feared,  were 

little  better  than  Enthusiasts;  and  God  knows  whether  a Warmth  of  this  kind  did 

(2) 

not  considerably  help  us  in  throwing  off  that  spiritual  Tsrrsnny." 

He  concludes  with  an  explanation  of  the  terms  Lymphatici  or  Hympholipti  as 

applied  to  religious  enthusiasts.  The  latter  term  Babbitt  uses  in  his  chapter 

on  Romantic  love,  applying  it  to  the  romanticists'  relationship  to  his  love- 

ideal.-  "The  LyE5)hatici  of  the  Latins  were  the  Hympholipti  of  the  Greeks.  They 

were  Persons  said  to  have  some  Species  of  Divinity,  as  either  some  rural  Deity 

or  Hynqph;  which  threw  them  into  such  Transports  as  overcame  their  Reason.  The 

Fabasys  expressed  themselves  outirardly  in  Quaking,  Trembling,  Tossings  of  the 

Head  and  Limbs,  and  Agitations,  and  (as  Livy  calls  them)  Fanatical  Tlirows  and 

Convulsions,  extemporaneous  Prayer,  Prophecy,  Singing  and  the  like.  All  nations 

have  Lyraphaticks  of  some  kind  or  another;  and  all  Chvirches,  Heathen  as  well  as 

(3) 

Christian,  have  had  their  Coirplaints  against  Fanaticism." 

Under  the  inspiration  of  such  religious  leaders  as  Newton,  the  Wesleys,  a 
and  Whitefield,-  though  Wesley  himself  declared  against  any  charge  of  "Enthusi- 
asm," represented  the  religious  Expansive  force  of  romanticism,  it  connoted 

(3)  Earl  of  Shaftsbury,"Characteristicks, " Yol. I, "Letter  Concerning  Ent'aupirrm'i*! 
(2)  Earl  of  Shaftsbury,"Characteristicks"  Vol, I , "Letter  Concerning  SnthuEl:rnm"r£ 
(1)  Earl  of  Shaftsbury,"Characteristicks"  Vol, I,  Letter  Concerning  Enthusiasm'' T6 


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62 


introspection  and  the  active  desire  to  connect  self  with  some  unbounded,  un- 
restricted Infinite* 

Through  enthusiasm  the  romanticist  succeeded  in  relating  himself  actively 
to  some  ideal  of  conduct.  He  may  have  dreamed  of  his  individual  experiences 
in  solitude,  he  may  have  symbolized  his  highest  soul  in  imsginstive  t;iought; 
but  through  enthusiasm  he  expressed  his  purely  subjective  relr.tionsnip  to  that 
ideal*  Through  enthusiasm  he  reached  out  after  a certain  self-expressive 
activity,  in  his  endeavors  relating  himself  with  the  forces  of  the  uni verse, - 
and  striving  himself  to  move  things  along*  His  efforts  were  marlted  by  indivi- 
dual standards,  for  the  romanticist  scorned  the  accumulated  experience  of  the 
past*  The  past,  indeed,  if  of  any  value  at  all,  was  an  emotional  bacis:ground 
for  present  endeavor  and  future  attainment*  To  acconplish  anything,  as  Bazlltt 
says,  is  joy  enough  in  itself*  Then,  it  made  no  real  difference  if  efforts 
failed,  there  was  always  romantic  hope  which  projected  into  the  rosy  futxire  the 
ultimate  attainment  of  good,—  Shelley  expresses  the  idea  in  its  subjective,  ro— 
il^gagitic  significance  in  the  closing  stanza  of  Prometheus  Unbound,- 
”To  suffer  woes  which  Hope  thihkis  infinite; 

To  forgive  wrongs  darker  than  death  or  night; 

To  defy  Power,  which  seems  omnipotent; 

To  love,  and  bear;  to  hope  till  Hope  creates 
Prom  its  own  wreck  the  thing  it  contemplates; 
neither  to  change,  nor  falter,  nor  repent; 

This  like  thy  glory.  Titan, is  to  be 
Good,  great  and  joyous,  beautiful  and  free; 

This  is  alone  Life,  Joy,  Empire,  and  Victory*”^^^ 

(1)  Shelley,  "Prometheus  Unbound,"  "Shelley’s  Oonplete  Poetical  Y/orks," 
(Cambridge  Edition)  206 


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